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NEWTON'S PORTRAIT OF SIR WALTER SCOTT 

From the original painting done at Chief swood in August, 1824 



SIR WALTER SCOTT , 4^, 

THE LADY OF 
THE LAKE 




^^^^^ 




* 



1^ 



Edited 
With Introduction and Notes 

BY 

EBENEZER CHARLTON BLACK, LL.D. 




GINN AND COMPANY 

BOSTON • NEW YORK • CHICAGO • LONDON 
ATLANTA • DALLAS • COLUMBUS • SAN FRANCISCO 



5^0^ 






:^\ 



^ 



COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY 
GINN AND COMPANY 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
921.1 



MAR 3U iP?l 



GINN AND COMPANY • PRO- 
PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A. 



S)Cl,A6il606 



'T/vw> I 



i- 



TO HER 

FOR WHOM LAKE AGNES IN THE 

HEART OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 

WAS NAMED 

THIS EDITION OF "THE LADY OF THE LAKE' 

IS DEDICATED 



CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION 

PAGES 

I. Biographical ix 

Shakespeare and Scott ix 

\.OQ}^'dx\^'s> Life of Scott x 

Scott's Autobiography , . xi 

" The Bath Miniature " xiii 

Scott's Literary Life xxi 

Chronological Table xxiii-xxv 

The Last Days of Scott xxvi 

The Scott Monument xxx 

IL Historical Setting of The Lady of the Lake . xxxv 

Highlanders and Borderers xxxv 

James V of Scotland (1 5 1 2-1 542) xli 

HI. Literary Appreciation xlvi 

IV. Scott's Introduction xlviii 

V. Scott's Original Dedication and Argument . . Iv 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Canto First. The Chase i 

Canto Second. The Island 31 

Canto Third. The Gathering 65 

Canto Fourth. The Prophecy 97 

Canto Fifth. The Combat 129 

Canto Sixth. The Guard-Room 163 

[vii] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
NOTES 

PAGES 

I. The Text 197 

Manuscript Variations 197 

Facsimile of the original manuscript of the introduc- 
tory stanzas 198-199 

II. Versification 202 

III. Explanatory and Illustrative 203 

Canto First 203 

Canto Second 206 

Canto Third 208 

Canto Fourth 209 

Canto Fifth 211 

Canto Sixth 213 



[viii] 




MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE LOCA 




S OF THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



INTRODUCTION 

I. BIOGRAPHICAL 

Shakespeare and Scott 

The supreme names in the literature of the English-speaking 
world are those of William Shakespeare and Walter Scott. 
With obvious differences in their interpretation of life, both 
men had much in common. Voluminousness characterizes the 
literary output of both. Each possessed historical imagination 
in a peculiarly active and vivid form ; and this, united with 
extraordinary width of range, depth of sympathy, and sheer 
joy in life, enabled them to connect past and present in so 
intimate and understanding a way that their writings have 
become an eternal contribution to the epic and the drama of 
civilization. In this connection it is significant that both writers 
were, and are, popular in the deep, true sense of the word. As 
with Horace and Virgil, as with Dante, as with Dickens, their 
contemporaries heard them gladly ; and, since they were first 
given to the world, Shakespeare's plays and Scott's romances 
in verse and prose have made perennial appeal to all sorts and 
conditions of men. The authentic records of the life story of 
the two are in marked contrast. In the case of Shakespeare 
these records are comparatively few and fragmentary, though 
alive with meaning, but the life of Scott, like his honest, simple 
face, is one of the best known in all the world. It was written 
in fullest detail, not a spot or wrinkle smoothed over, by his 
son-in-law, John Gibson Lockhart, who had intimate acquaint- 
ance with his subject and an excellent knowledge of literature, 
creative and critical. 

[ix] 



INTRODUCTION 

Lockhart's Life of Scott 

Lockhart's Scott takes its place with Boswell's Johnson as a 
great human document. It tells of a good and illustrious man 
in a sincere, worthy, and always interesting way. The first 
chapter is an autobiographical sketch by Scott himself, which 
gives with all the ease of familiar conversation the story of his 
ancestry, his early years, his boyhood, and his somewhat desul- 
tory life as a student at Edinburgh University. From the sickly 
childhood to the adventures at college and the resolute deter- 
mination to become a lawyer to please a father, the record is a 
remarkable parallel to the experiences of his successor seventy 
years later in the field of high romance, Robert Louis Stevenson. 

After a brief introduction the autobiography begins with the 
well-known words : '' Every Scottishman ^ has a pedigree," and 
with characteristic enthusiasm Scott describes his descent from 
that Walter Scott of The Lay of the Last Minstrel who is known 
in Border history and legend as Auld Watt (Old Walter) of 
Harden. The artless narrative reveals how certain elements in 
his ancestry were peculiarly gratifying to his feelings of nation- 
ality and to his imagination. They help to explain why Scott is 
the most representative man of his race, and how it happened 
that, as Carlyle said of him, ^^ no Scotchman of his time was 
more entirely Scotch than Walter Scott." The memory of the 
exploits of his ancestors awoke in him that love of history and 
legend which is the source of his finest poetry and greatest 
novels. His wish to be known as one of the old house of 
Harden and a passionate desire to found a new territorial 
family of Scott brought about the financial disaster from the 
struggle with which he emerged utterly broken in health, but 

1 So Scott wrote the word. Variants are " Scotchman," often used 
by Barrie, and " Scotsman," the more scholarly form preferred by 
Stevenson. 

[X] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 

with honor saved and a name to the end of time for chivalric 
loyalty to duty in the face of direst odds. The last chapters of 
Lockhart's Life are the record of a tragedy, but in it virtue 
of the highest, rarest kind is -triumphant. Little wonder that 
Carlyle was compelled to exclaim : '^ When he departed he took 
a Man's life along with him. No sounder piece of British man- 
hood was put together in that eighteenth century of Time." It 
is this element in Lockhart's Life which led Gladstone and 
Newman to read the biography from beginning to end once a 
year. It was one of the favorite books of Tennyson, and in 
his last volume he caused to be printed in capital letters this 
stanza : 

great and gallant Scott, 

True gentleman, heart, blood and bone ! 

1 would it had been my lot 

To have seen thee, and heard thee, and known. 

Scott's Autobiography 

[The following is abridged, without any change of phraseology, 
from the autobiographical fragment discovered by Lockhart in an 
old cabinet at Abbotsford, after the death of Scott. It was written 
in 1808.] 

I was born, as I believe, on the 15th August, 177 1. I showed 
every sign of health and strength until I was about eighteen 
months old. One night, I have been often told, I showed great 
reluctance to be caught and put to bed ; and after being chased 
about the room was apprehended and consigned to my dormi- 
tory with some difficulty. It was the last time I was to show 
such personal agility. In the morning I was discovered to be 
affected with the fever which often accompanies the cutting of 
large teeth. It held me three days. On the fourth, when they 
went to bathe me as usual, they discovered that I had lost the 

[xi] 



INTRODUCTION 

power of my right \tg} My grandfather, an excellent anatomist 
as well as physician, the late worthy Alexander Wood, and 
many others of the most respectable of the faculty, were con- 
sulted. There appeared to be no dislocation or sprain ; blisters 
and other topical remedies were applied in vain. The advice of 
my grandfather. Dr. Rutherford, that I should be sent to reside 
in the country, to give the chance of natural exertion, excited 
by free air and liberty, was first resorted to ; and before I have 
the recollection of the slightest event I was, agreeably to this 
friendly counsel, an inmate in the farmhouse of Sandy-Knowe. 

It is here at Sandy-Knowe, in the residence of my paternal 
grandfather, that I have the first consciousness of existence. 

My grandmother, in whose youth the old Border depredations 
were matter of recent tradition, used to tell me many a tale of 
Watt of Harden, Wight Willie of Aikwood, Jamie Telfer of the 
fair Dodhead, and other heroes, — merrymen all of the persua- 
sion and calling of Robin Hood and Little John. Two or three old 
books which lay in the window seat were explored for my amuse- 
ment in the tedious winter days. Automathes and Ramsay's Tea- _ 
table Miscellany were my favorites, although at a later period an 
odd volume of Josephus's Wars of the Jews divided my partiality. 

My kind and affectionate aunt. Miss Janet Scott, whose 
memory will ever be dear to me, used to read these works to 
me with admirable patience, until I could repeat long passages 
by heart. The ballad of Hardyknute I was early master of, 
to the great annoyance of almost our only visitor, the worthy 
clergyman of the parish. Dr. Duncan, who had not patience to 
have a sober chat interrupted by my shouting forth this ditty. 
Methinks I now see his tall, thin, emaciated figure, his legs 

1 "No better description could be given of the onset oi polioencephalo- 
myelitis, what is popularly known as infantile paralysis." — Andrew A. 
Knox, M.D. 

[xii] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 



cased in clasped gambadoes, and his face of a length that 
would have rivaled the Knight of La Mancha's, and hear 
him exclaiming, '' One may as well speak in the mouth of a 
cannon as where 
that child is." 

I was in my 
fourth year when 
my father was ad- 
vised that the Bath 
waters might be 
of some advan- 
tage to my lame- 
ness. My affection- 
ate aunt, although 
such a journey 
promised to a per- 
son of her retired 
habits anything 
but pleasure or 
amusement, under- 
took as readily to 
accompany me to 
the wells of Bladud 
as if she had ex- 
pected all the delight that ever the prospect of a watering place 
held out to its most impatient visitants. My health was by this 
time a good deal confirmed by the country air and the influence 
of that imperceptible and unfatiguing exercise to which the good 
sense of my grandfather had subjected me ; for, when the day 
was fine, I was usually carried out and laid down beside the 
old shepherd, among the crags or rocks round which he fed his 
sheep. The impatience of a child soon inclined me to struggle 

[ ^iii ] 




SCOTT AT THE AGE OF FOUR 
'' The Bath Miniature " 



INTRODUCTION 

with my infirmity, and I began by degrees to stand, to walk, 
and to run. Although the limb affected was much shrunk and 
contracted, my general health, which was of more importance, 
was much strengthened by being frequently in the open air ; 
and, in a word, I, who in a city had probably been condemned 
to hopeless and helpless decrepitude, was now a healthy, high- 
spirited, and, my lameness apart, a sturdy child. 

During my residence at Bath ^ I acquired the rudiments of 
reading at a day school kept by an old dame near our lodgings, 
and I had never a more regular teacher, although I think I did 
not attend her a quarter of a year. An occasional lesson from 
my aunt supplied the rest. Afterwards, when grown a big boy, 
I had a few lessons from Mr. Stalker of Edinburgh, and finally 
from the Rev. Mr. Cleeve. 

The most delightful recollections of Bath are dated after 
the arrival of my uncle, Captain Robert Scott, who introduced 
me to all the little amusements which suited my age, and, 
above all. to the theater. The play was As Vou Like It\ and 
the witchery of the whole scene is alive in my mind at this 
moment. I made, I believe, noise more than ^enough, and 
remember being so much scandalized at the quarrel between 
Orlando and his brother, in the first scene, that I screamed 
out, '' A'n't they brothers ? '' A few weeks' residence at home 
convinced me, who had till then been an only child in the 
house of my grandfather, that a quarrel between brothers 
was a very natural event. 

After being a year at Bath I returned first to Edinburgh, 
and afterwards for a season to Sandy- Knowe ; and thus the 
time whiled away till about my eighth year, when it was 
thought sea bathing might be of service to my lameness. 

1 [It was at this time that the dehghtful child portrait of Scott, known as 
the " Bath Miniature," was painted. It is reproduced here, on page xiii.] 

[xiv] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 

For this purpose, still under my aunt's protection, I remained 
some weeks at Prestonpans, — a circumstance not worth men- 
tioning, excepting to record my juvenile intimacy with an old 
military veteran, Dalgetty by name, who had pitched his tent 
in that little village, after all his campaigns, subsisting upon 
an ensign's half pay, though called by courtesy a Captain. 
As this old gentleman, who had been in all the German wars, 
found very few to listen to his tales of military feats, he 
formed a sort of alliance with me, and I used invariably to 
attend him for the pleasure of hearing those communications. 
Sometimes our conversation turned on the American war, 
which was then raging. It was about the time of Burgoyne's 
unfortunate expedition, to which my Captain and I augured 
different conclusions. Somebody had shown me a map of 
North America, and, struck with the rugged appearance of 
the country and the quantity of lakes, I expressed some 
doubts on the subject of the General's arriving safely at the 
end of his journey, which were very indignantly refuted by 
the Captain. The news of the Saratoga disaster, while it 
gave me a little triumph, rather shook my intimacy with 
the veteran. 

Besides this veteran, I found another ally at Prestonpans in 
the person of George Constable, an old friend of my father's. 
He was the first person who told me about Falstaff and 
Hotspur, and other characters in Shakespeare. What idea 
I annexed to them I know not, but I must have annexed some, 
for I remember quite well being interested in the subject. 
Indeed, I rather suspect that children derive impulses of a 
powerful and important kind in hearing things which they 
cannot entirely comprehend ; and, therefore, that to write 
down to children's understanding is a mistake : set them on 
the scent, and let them puzzle it out. 

[XV] 



INTRODUCTION 

From Prestonpans I was transported back to my father's 
house in George's Square, which continued to be my most 
established place of residence until my marriage in 1797. 
I felt the change, from being a single indulged brat to be- 
coming a member of a large family, very severely ; for, under 
the gentle government of my kind grandmother, who was 
meekness itself, and of my aunt, who, though of an higher 
temper, was exceedingly attached to me, I had acquired a 
degree of license which could not be permitted in a large 
family. 1 had sense enough, however, to bend my temper 
to my new circumstances ; but, such was the agony which I 
internally experienced, that I have guarded against nothing 
more, in the education of my own family, than against their 
acquiring habits of self-willed caprice and domination. I found 
much consolation, during this period of mortification, in the 
partiality of my mother. She joined to a light and happy 
temper of mind a -strong turn to study poetry and works of 
imagination. 

My lameness and my solitary habits had made me a tolerable 
reader, and my hours of leisure were usually spent in reading 
aloud to my mother Pope's translation of Homer, which, ex- 
cepting a few traditionary ballads, and the songs in Allan 
Ramsay's Evergreen^ was the first poetry which I perused. 
My mother had good natural taste and great feeling : she 
used to make me pause upon those passages which expressed 
generous and worthy sentiments, and, if she could not divert 
me from those which were descriptive of battle and tumult, 
she contrived at least to divide my attention between them. 
My own enthusiasm, however, was chiefly awakened by the 
wonderful and the terrible — the common taste of children, 
but in which I have remained a child even unto this day. 
I got by heart, not as a task, but almost without intending 

[xvi] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 

it, the passages with which I was most pleased, and used to 
recite them aloud, both when alone and to others — more 
willingly, however, in my hours of solitude, for I had observed 
some auditors smile, and I dreaded ridicule at that time of 
life more than I have ever done since. 

In 1778 I was sent to the second class of the Grammar 
School, or High School of Edinburgh, then taught by 
Mr. Luke Fraser, a good Latin scholar and a very worthy man. 

Our class contained some very excellent scholars. As for 
myself, I glanced like a meteor from one end of the class to 
the other, and commonly disgusted my kind master as much 
by negligence and frivolity as I occasionally pleased him by 
flashes of intellect and talent. Among my companions my 
good nature and a flow of ready imagination rendered me 
very popular. Boys are uncommonly just in their feelings, 
and at least equally generous. My lameness, and the efforts 
which I made to supply that disadvantage, by making up in 
address what I wanted in activity, engaged the latter principle 
in my favor ; and in the winter play hours, when hard exercise 
was impossible, my tales used to assemble an admiring audi- 
ence round Lucky Brown's fireside, and happy was he that 
could sit next to the inexhaustible narrator. I was also, though 
often negligent of my own task, always ready to assist my 
friends ; and hence I had a little party of stanch partisans 
and adherents, stout of hand and heart, though somewhat dull 
of head, — the very tools for raising a hero to eminence. So, 
on the whole, I made a brighter figure in the yards than in 
the class. 

After having been three years under Mr. Fraser, our class was, 

in the usual routine of the school, turned over to Dr. Adam, 

the Rector. It was from this respectable man that I first 

learned the value of the knowledge I had hitherto considered 

R [xvii] 



INTRODUCTION 

only as a burdensome task. It was the fashion to remain two 
years at his class, where we read Caesar and Livy and Sallust, 
in prose ; Virgil, Horace, and Terence, in verse. I had by 
this time mastered, in some degree, the difficulties of the 
language, and began to be sensible of its beauties. This was 
really gathering grapes from thistles; nor shall I soon forget 
the swelling of my little pride when the Rector pronounced, 
that though many of my schoolfellows understood the Latin 
better, Gicalterus Scott was behind few in following and enjoy- 
ing the author's micaning. Thus encouraged, I distinguished 
myself by some attempts at poetical versions from Horace and 
Virgil. Dr. Adam used to invite his scholars to such essays, 
but never made them tasks. I gained some distinction upon 
these occasions, and the Rector in future took much notice 
of me ; and his judicious mixture of censure and praise went 
far to counterbalance my habits of indolence and inattention. 
I saw I was expected to do well, and I was piqued in honor 
to vindicate my master's favorable opinion. I climbed, there- 
fore, to the first form ; and, though I never made a first-rate 
Latinist, my schoolfellows, and what was of more consequence, I 
myself, considered that I had a character for learning to maintain. 

From Dr. Adam's class I should, according to the usual rou- 
tine, have proceeded immediately to college. But, fortunately, 
I was not yet to lose, by a total dismission from constraint, 
the acquaintance with the Latin which I had acquired. My 
health had become rather delicate from rapid growth, and my 
father was easily persuaded to allow me to spend half a year 
at Kelso with my kind aunt, Miss Janet Scott, whose inmate 
I again became. It was hardly worth mentioning that I had 
frequently visited her during our short vacations. 

In the meanwhile my acquaintance with English literature 
was gradually extending itself. In the intervals of my school 

[ xviii ] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 

hours I had always perused with avidity such books of history 
or poetry or voyages and travels as chance presented to me, 
— not forgetting the usual, or rather ten times the usual, 
quantity of fairy tales, eastern stories, romances, etc. These 
studies were totally unregulated and undirected. My tutor 
thought it almost a sin to open a profane play or poem ; and 
my mother, besides that she might be in some degree tram- 
meled by the religious scruples which he suggested, had no 
longer the opportunity to hear me read poetry as formerly. 
I found, however, in her dressing room (where I slept at one 
time) som.e odd volumes of Shakespeare ; nor can I easily for- 
get the rapture with which I sate up in my shirt reading them 
by the light of a fire in her apartment, until the bustle of the 
family rising from supper warned me it was time to creep back 
to my bed, where I was supposed to have been safely deposited 
since nine o'clock. Chance, however, threw in my way a 
poetical preceptor. This was no other than the excellent and 
benevolent Dr. Blacklock, well known at that time as a literary 
character. I know not how I attracted his attention, and that 
of some of the young men who boarded in his family ; but so 
it was that I became a frequent and favored guest. The kind 
old man opened to me the stores of his library, and through 
his recommendation I became intimate with Ossian and Spenser. 
I was delighted with both, yet I think chiefly with the latter 
poet. The tawdry repetitions of the Ossianic phraseology dis- 
gusted me rather sooner than might have been expected from 
my age. But Spenser I could have read forever. Too young 
to trouble myself about the allegory, I considered all the 
knights and ladies and dragons and giants in their outward 
and exoteric sense, and God only knows how delighted I was 
to find myself in such society. As I had always a wonderful 
facility in retaining in my memory whatever verses pleased me, 

[xix] 



INTRODUCTION 

the quantity of Spenser's stanzas which I could repeat was 
really marvelous. But this memory of mine was a very fickle 
ally, and has through my whole life acted merely upon its own 
capricious motion, and might have enabled me to adopt old 
Beattie of Meikledale's answer, when complimented by a cer- 
tain reverend divine on the strength of the same faculty : '^ No, 
sir," answered the old Borderer, '' I have no command of my 
memory. It only retains what hits my fancy ; and probably, 
sir, if you were to preach to me for two hours, I would not be 
able when you finished to remember a word you had been 
saying." My memory was precisely of the same kind : it seldom 
failed to preserve most tenaciously a favorite passage of poetry, 
a play-house ditty, or, above all, a Border-raid ballad ; but 
names, dates, and the other technicalities of history escaped 
me in a most melancholy degree. 

Among the valuable acquisitions I made about this time was 
an acquaintance with Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, But, above 
all, I then first became acquainted with Bishop Percy's Reliqties 
of A7icie7it Poetry, I remember well the spot where I read 
these volumes for the first time. It was beneath a huge platanus 
tree, in the ruins of what had been intended for an old-fashioned 
arbor in the garden I have mentioned. The summer day sped 
onward so fast, that, notwithstanding the sharp appetite of 
thirteen, I forgot the hour of dinner, w^as sought for with 
anxiety, and w^as still found entranced in my intellectual 
banquet. To read and to remember was in this instance the 
same thing, and henceforth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows, 
and all who would hearken to me, with tragical recitations from 
the ballads of Bishop Percy. The first time, too, I could scrape 
a few shillings together, which were not common occurrences 
with me, I bought unto myself a copy of these beloved volumes ; 
nor do I believe I ever read a book half so frequently or with 

[XX] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 

half the enthusiasm. About this period also I became acquainted 
with the works of Richardson, and those of Mackenzie, with 
Fielding, Smollett, and some others of our best novelists. 

To this period also I can trace distinctly the awakening of 
that delightful feeling for the beauties of natural objects which 
has never since deserted me. The neighborhood of Kelso, the 
most beautiful, if not the most romantic village in Scotland, is 
eminently calculated to awaken these ideas. 

From this time the love of natural beaut}^, more especially 
when combined with ancient ruins, or remains of our fathers' 
piety or splendor, became with me an insatiable passion, which, 
if circumstances had permitted, I would willingly have gratified 
by traveling over half the globe. 

Scott's Literary Life 

As may be seen at a glance in the chronological table sub- 
joined, Scott was contemporaneous with the poets and novelists 
who, at the close of the eighteenth century and during the 
first twenty-five years of the nineteenth, brought about that 
change in the literature of the English-speaking world which 
is often called the triumph of romanticism. This movement 
was primarily, to use Professor Herford's words, a development 
of imaginative sensibility. . ^^ At countless points the universe of 
sense and thought acquired a new potency of response and 
appeal to man, a new capacity of ministering to, and mingling 
with, his richest and intensest life. Glory of lake and moun- 
tain, grace of childhood, dignity of the untaught peasant, wonder 
of faerie, mystery of the Gothic aisle, radiance of Attic marble 
— all these springs of the poet's inspiration and the artist's joy 
began to flow. ... To rekindle the soul of the past, or to reveal 
a soul where no eye had yet discerned it ... to invest lake and 
mountain with ^ the light that never was on sea or land ' ; to 

[xxi] 



INTRODUCTION 

make the natural appear supernatural, as Wordsworth and 
Coleridge put it, or the supernatural natural — were but different 
avenues to the world of Romance.'' 

A year younger than Wordsworth, a year older than Coleridge, 
Scott became with them a powerful influence in bringing about 
this great awakening, this renascence of wonder. The move- 
ment was carried to new heights and depths by younger men, 
Byron, Shelley, and Keats. Conservative to the core, Scott was 
kept from revolutionary extravagancies in subject matter and 
diction ; subtle philosophizing was alien to his sturdy common 
sense. His frank appeal to what is basic and universal in human 
experience made him the romanticist that he is. His themes 
are elemental as dawn, sunset, a night of stars, birth, love and 
death ; his treatment is simple, sincere, reverent. His avowed 
aim was to ingraft modern refinement on ancient simplicity and 
to preserve the energy of the old ballad without its rudeness 
and bareness. 

Scott's life as a writer falls into two periods of exactly eight- 
een years each. The first of these extends from 1796 — the 
year in which Burns died and Carlyle was twelve months old — 
when Scott published his translation of Burger's Lenore^ until 
18 1 4, when Waverley appeared. This period from Scott's 
twenty-fifth to his forty-third year, is that of his verse, edited, 
translated, and original. The second period from 18 14 to 1832 
is that of his prose, the Waverley Novels and formal historical 
writings. It is the time of his wealth and his fall into financial 
ruin. During the first twelve years of this second period Scott 
wrote his finest novels and built his famous baronial mansion, 
Abbotsford, on the banks of his beloved Tweed. The remain- 
ing six years are marked by grinding taskwork, bodily infirmities, 
and the overburdened brain shattered by apoplexy and paralysis, 
until death released him in 1832. 

[ ^^ii ] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 



'CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE 
Period L Verse, i 796-1814 



Year 


Scott's Publications 


Other Literature 


History and Biography 


1796 


Translations from 
Burger etc. 


Washington's Farewell 

Address 
Coleridge's Poems 


Bums died 
Napoleonic wars 


1797 




Bewick's British Birds 


Burke died 

Napoleon crossed Alps 


1798 




The Lyrical Ballads 
(Wordsworth ; Coleridge) 
Goethe's Hermann ti7id 
Dorothea 


Battle of the Nile 


1799 


Translation of Goethe's 
Goeiz 71011 Berlichhi- 
gen. Ballads 


Campbell's Pleasures of 
Hope 


Balzac bom 
Heine born 
Washington died 


1800 


The Eve of St. John 
and other original 
Ballads 


Maria Edgeworth's 
Castle Rackrent 


Cowper died. Macaulay 
born. Act of Union of 
Great Britain and Ire- 
land. Beethoven's First 
Symphony 


1801 




^ Monk ' Lewis : Tales of 
Wo7ider 


Battle of Copenhagen 
Jefferson, President of 
United Statesof America 


1802 


Minstrelsy of Scottish 
Border. Vols. I and 
II 


Ediftbiirgh Review 
established 


Victor Hugo born 


1803 


Minstrelsy of Scottish 
Border. Vol. Ill 
Reviews 




Emerson bom 
Louisiana Purchase 


1804 


Ed. Sir Tristrein 
(Metrical Romance) 


Schiller's Wilhelm Tell 


Kant died. Napoleon 
became Emperor 


1805 


Lay of the Last Min- 
strel. Reviews 




Battles of Trafalgar and 
Austerlitz. Schiller died 


1806 


Ballads and Lyrical 
Pieces. Reviews 


Coleridge's Christabel 


Battle of Jena 


1807 




Byron's Hours of Idle- 
ness 


Longfellow born 


1808 


Marmion 

Ed. Dry den's Works 


Wilson's A merican 
Ornithology (Vol. I) 

Quarterly Review 
established 


Peninsular War 


1809 


Reviews 


Byron's English Bards 
and Scotch Reviewers 


Battle of Corunna 
Tennyson, Darwin, 
Gladstone, Lincoln, Poe, 
Holmes born 



[ ^^^^^ ] 



INTRODUCTION 



Year 


Scott's Publications 


Other Literature 


History and Biography 


1810 


Lady of the Lake 


J. Porter's Scottish 
Chiefs 




1811 


Vision of 
Don Roderick 


J. Austen's Sense ajid 
Sensibility. Goethe's 
Dichtung und Wahr- 
heit (First Part) 


Thackeray bom 


1812 


Rokeby 


J. Austen's Pride and 
Prejudice. Byrn's 
Childe Harold (Cantos 
I, II), Crabbe's Tales 


Browning, Dickens bom 
War between Great Britain 

and the United States 
Napoleon's Russian 

campaign 


1813 


Bridal of Triermain 


Byron's Giaour, Bride 
of Abydos. Shelley's 
Quee7i Mab 


Battle of Leipzig 



Period II. Prose. 1814-1832 



I8I4 


Waver ley. Ed. 
Swift's Works 


J. Austen's Mafisfield 
Park. Byron's Lara 
Wordsworth's Excur- 
sion 


Congress of Vienna 


I8I5 


Lord of the Isles 
Guy Man7ieritig 
Field of Waterloo 


Byron's Hebrew Melodies 
Wordsworth's White Doe 
North A merican Review 
established 


Battle of Waterloo. Holy 
Alliance 


I8I6 


The A ntiqtiary 
The Black Dwarf 
Old Mortality 


J. Austen's Emma 
Shelley's Alastor 
Byron's Childe Harold 
(Canto III) 


Charlotte Bronte bom 


I8I7 


Rob Roy 


Byron's Ma7ifred 
Coleridge's Biographia 

Liter aria 
Moore's Lalla Rookh 
Bryant's Tha7iatopsis 
Blackwood? s Magazine 

estabhshed 


J. Austen died 
Madame de Stael died 


I8I8 


Heart of Midlothian 


Keats' s Endymioji 
Shelley's Revolt of Islajii 
Irving's Sketch Book 


Emily Bronte bom 


I8I9 


The Bride ofLammer- 
■moor and Legend of 
Montrose 

Iva?ihoe 


Byron's Don Juan 

(Cantos I, II) 
Shelley's Ce7tci 
Wordsworth's Waggo7ter 


Kingsley, Ruskin, Lowell 

bom 
George Eliot born 


1820 


The Mo7iastery 
The Abbot 


Keats's Lam.ia, Isabella, 
Eve of St. Agnes, 
Hyperio7i. Shelley's 
Prometheus Utibcnifid 


Missouri Compromise 



[ ^^^v ] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 



Year 


Scott's Publications 


Other Literature 


History and Biography 


1821 


Kenihuorth 
The Fir ate 


Byron's Cain, Mariiio 

Faliero, S arda?iapalus 
DeQuincey's Confessio?is 
Shelley's Adonais, E pi- 
Psych idion . Bryan t' s 
Poems. Cooper's Spy 


Keats died 

Greek struggle for inde- 
pendence began; con- 
tinued until 1829 


1822 


For trine s of Nigel 


Lamb's Essays of Elia 


Shelley drowned 
Matthew Arnold bom 


1823 


Peveril of the Peak 
Quentin Durward 
St. Ronan's Well 


Cooper's Pilot, Pioneers 


Monroe Doctrine 
formulated 


1824 


Redgauntlet 


Carlyle's Translation of 
Wilhehn Meister 

Westminster Review 
established 


B3Ton died in Greece in 
the cause of liberty 

La Fayette in United 
States 


1825 


The Betrothed 
The Talisman 


Carlyle's Schiller 
Macaulay's Milton 
Coleridge's A ids to 
Reflectiofi 


Richter died 
Saint- Simon died 


1826 


Woodstock 


Cooper's Last of the 

Mohica7is 
Heine's Reisebilder 




1827 


Chronicles of the 
Ca n ongate ( Two 
Drovers, Highlatid 
Widow, Surgeon's 
Daughter). Tales of 
a Grandfather 
(First Series) 


Keble's Christian Year 
Heine's Buch der Lieder 
Audubon's Birch of 

Am.erica 
Poe's Tamerlaine 


Blake died 

Battle of Navarino 


1828 


Fair Maid of Perth 


Hawthorne's Fanshawe 


Catholic Emancipation 

in England 
George Meredith bom 
D. G. Rossetti bom 


1829 


A nne of Geier stein 


A. Tennyson's Timbuctoo 
Sainte-Beuve's 
Joseph Delonne 




1830 


Doom of Devorgoil 
Essays ofi Ballad 

Poetry 
Letters on Demonology 


Tennyson's Poems 
chiefly Lyrical 


Hazlitt died 


183 1 


Count Robert of Paris 
Castle Dangerous 


Ebenezer Elliot's 
Corn-Law Rhymes 

Hugo's Notre Dame 

Poe's Raven 

Whittier's Lege7ids of 
New England 


Webster's debate with 
Hayne 


1832 






DEATH OF SCOTT 

Bentham died. Crabbe 
died. Goethe died. 
Freneau died. Reform 
Bill passed 



[ ^^^ ] 



INTRODUCTION 

The Last Days of Scott 

[No finer prose description is found in nineteenth-century litera- 
ture than the last chapter of Lockhart's Life, a few passages from 
which follow. It tells of the passing of the old minstrel-hero into 
his eternal renown and. in its blending of unconscious power and 
unconscious grace, illustrates what is at the heart of all real greatness 
in literature — true goodness in life.] 

At a ver}' early hour on the morning of Wednesday, we 
placed him in his carriage, and he lay in the same torpid state 
during the first t^vo stages on the road to Tweedside. But as 
we descended the vale of the Gala he began to gaze about him, 
and by degrees it was obvious that he was recognizing the fea- 
tures of that famihar landscape. Presently he murmured a name 
or two, — ^'Gala Water, surely. — Buckholm. — Torwoodlee." 
As we rounded the hill at Ladhope. and the outline of the 
Eildons burst on him, he became greatly excited, and when 
turning himself on the couch his eye caught at length his own 
towers, at the distance of a mile, he sprang up with a cr}- of 
delight. . . . 

Mr. Laidlaw w^as w^aiting at the porch, and assisted us in 
lifting him into the dining-room, where his bed had been pre- 
pared. He sat bewildered for a few moments, and then resting 
his eye on Laidlaw. said, '' Ha ! WilHe Laidlaw I O man, how 
often have I thought of you ! " By this time his dogs had 
assembled about his chair. — they began to fawn upon him and 
lick his hands, and he alternately sobbed and smiled over them, 
until sleep oppressed him. ... 

He expressed a wish that I should read to him, and when 
I asked from what book, he said, '' Need you ask ? There 
is but one.'* I chose the fourteenth chapter of St. John's 
Gospel ; he listened with mild devotion, and said when I had 
done, '^ Well, this is a great comfort, — I have follow^ed you 

[xxvi] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 

distinctly, and I feel as if I were yet to be myself again/' In 
this placid frame he was again put to bed, and had many hours 
of soft slumber. 

On the third day Mr. Laidlaw and I again wheeled him about 
the small piece of lawn and shrubbery in front of the house for 
some time, and the weather being delightful, and all the rich- 
ness of summer around him, he seemed to taste fully the balmy 
influences of nature. The sun getting very strong, we halted 
the chair in a shady corner, just within the verge of his verdant 
arcade around the court-wall ; and breathing the coolness of 
the spot, he said, '^ Read me some amusing thing, — read me 
a bit of Crabbe.'' I brought out the first volume of his old 
favorite that I could lay hand on, and turned to what I remem- 
bered as one of his most favorite passages in it, — the descrip- 
tion of the arrival of the players in the Borough. He listened 
with great interest, and also, as I soon perceived, with great 
curiosity. Every now and then he exclaimed, '' Capital — excel- 
lent — very good — Crabbe has lost nothing.'' . . . 

On the morning of Sunday, he was again taken out into the 
little pleasaunce^ and got as far as his favorite terrace-walk 
between the garden and the river, from which he seemed to 
survey the valley and the hills with much satisfaction. On re- 
entering the house, he desired me to read to him from the New 
Testament. . . . His recollection of whatever I read from the 
Bible appeared to be lively ; and in the afternoon, when we made 
his grandson, a child of six years, repeat some of Dr. Watts's 
hymns by his chair, he seemed also to remember them per- 
fectly. That evening he heard the Church service, and when 
I was about to close the book, said, '' Why do you omit the 
visitation for the sick ? " -^ which I added accordingly. 

On Monday he remained in bed and seemed extremely 
feeble ; but after breakfast on Tuesday, he appeared revived 

[ xxvii ] 



INTRODUCTION 

somewhat, and was again wheeled about on the turf. Presently 
he fell asleep in his chair, and after dozing for perhaps half an 
hour, started awake, and shaking the plaids we had put about 
him from off his shoulders, said : '' This is sad idleness. I shall 
forget what I have been thinking of* if I don't set it down now. 
Take me into my own room, and fetch the keys of my desk." 
He repeated this so earnestly that we could not refuse ; his 
daughters went into his study, opened his writing-desk, and 
laid paper and pens in the usual order, and I then moved him 
through the hall and into the spot where he had always been 
accustomed to work. When the chair was placed at the desk, 
and he found himself in the old position, he smiled and thanked 
us, and said, ^^ Now give me my pen, and leave me for a little to 
myself." Sophia put the pen into his hand, and he endeavored 
to close his fingers upon it, but they refused their office, — it 
dropped on the paper. He sank back among his pillows, silent 
tears rolling down his cheeks ; but composing himself by and 
by, motioned to me to wheel him out of doors again. Laidlaw 
met us at the porch, and took his turn of the chair. Sir Walter, 
after a little while, again dropped into slumber. When he 
awakened, Laidlaw said to me, '' Sir Walter has had a little 
repose." '' No, Willie," said he, '' no repose for Sir Walter 
but in the grave." The tears again rushed from his eyes. 
"Friends," said he, ''don't let me expose myself — get me to 
bed, — that 's the only place." 

After this he declined daily, but still there was great strength 
to be wasted, and the process was long. He seemed, however, 
to suffer no bodily pain, and his mind, though hopelessly 
obscured, appeared, when there was any symptom of con- 
sciousness, to be dwelling, with rare exceptions, on serious and 
solemn things ; the accent of the voice grave, sometimes awful, 
but never querulous. . . . Whatever we could follow him in was 

[ xxviii ] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 

a fragment of the Bible (especially the Prophecies of Isaiah and 
the Book of Job) — of some' petition in the litany — or a verse 
of some psalm (in the old Scotch metrical version) — or of some 
of the magnificent hymns of the Romish ritual in which he had 
always delighted. We very often heard distinctly the cadence 
of the Dies Irae \ and I think that the very last stanza that we 
could make out was the first of a still greater favorite : — - 

*^ Stabat Mater dolorosa, 
Juxta crucem lachrymosa, 
Dum pendebat Filius." , 

All this time he continued to recognize his daughters, Laidlaw, 
and myself, whenever we spoke to him, — and received every 
attention with a most touching thankfulness. Mr. Clarkson, 
too, was always saluted with the old courtesy, though the cloud 
opened but a moment for him to do so. Most truly might it 
be said that the gentleman survived the genius. . . . 

As I was dressing on the morning of Monday the 17 th of 
September, Nicolson came into my room, and told me that his 
master had awoke in a state of composure and consciousness, and 
wished to see me immediately. I found him entirely himself, 
though in the last extreme of feebleness. His eye was clear and 
calm — every trace of the wild fire of delirium extinguished. 
^^ Lockhart," he said, " I may have but a minute to speak to you. 
My dear, be a good man — be virtuous— be religious — be a good 
man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to 
lie here." He paused, and I said, '' Shall I send for Sophia and 
Anne ? " '' No," said he, '' don't disturb them. Poor souls ! 
I know they were up all night — God bless you all." With 
this he sunk into a very tranquil sleep, and, indeed, he scarcely 
afterwards gave any sign of consciousness, except for an instant 
on the arrival of his sons. They, on learning that the scene 
was about to close, obtained a new leave of absence from their 



INTRODUCTION 

posts, and both reached Abbotsford on the 19th. About half 
past one p.m., on the 21st of September, Sir Walter breathed 
his last, in the presence of all his children. It was a beautiful 
day, — so warm that every window was wide open, — and so 
perfectly still that the sound of all others most delicious to his 
ear, the gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, w^as dis- 
tinctly audible as we knelt around the bed, and his eldest son 
kissed and closed his eyes. 

The Scott Monument 
(princes street, edinburgh) 

[These stanzas of ottava riuia were written by Ebenezer Charlton 
Black for the advanced work in rhetoric and English literature, 
Edinburgh University, in the now famous Class of 1882, of which 
Sir lames Matthew Barrie, Baronet, was an active member. The 
lines were ^^ laureated " by Professor David Masson at the last meeting 
of its members, and often quoted by him in his last years.] 

I 

What glamourie is thine, fair spire of stone, 

Silent between this new town and that old } 
Art thou their child ? — for in thy face are shown 

The old-w^orld faith and feeling which enfold 
The deep-browed castle and the palace lone. 
The w^hile thy form is of a later mold. 
The place seems thine ; and, from his rocky wall, 
Arthur's green hill looks to thee over all. 

11 

It is not that the Spirit of the Past, 

With withered hairs inwreathed with rustling leaves — 
Her robe of yellowing eld all mossed and grassed. 

Where many an elf a varying tapestry weaves, 

[XXX] 




THE SCOTT MONUMENT, EDINBURGH 



INTRODUCTION 

Around her shrinking shoulders loosely cast — 
Amid thy towers and turrets broods and grieves; 
Thy winsome grace is as a foxglove's when 
The summer morning sees it down the glen. 

Ill 

A mightier than the Spirit of the Past 

Sits on a marble throne within thy shade : 
One at whose master-call she came, and cast 

Her robe about her, and, a willing maid. 
Whither he went, with hushed step, followed fast, 
Obedient — as of that weird will afraid ; — 
And she became a Presence and a Power, 
Erst but the phantom of a ruined tower. 

IV 

I gaze on thee, and one sweet memory tells 

Of that strange lad ^ who, all a summer's day. 
Herded his sheep upon the Pentland fells. 

And read the mighty minstrel's border lay ; 
And who, to echoes of the city bells 

Blending with clash of arms and fierce foray, 
Beheld thee there upon the hillside lone — 
Brandished his crook and froze thee into stone ! 

V 

Fair spire ! methinks thou art indeed the dream 
The shepherd lad had of the minstrel king. 

Resting in life's late gloaming by the stream 
Of Tweed, and listening to its murmuring — 

^ George Meikle Kemp, the architect of the Scott Monument, was 
born at Moorfoot, Midlothian, in 1795, and in his early years helped 
his father, who was a shepherd there. 

[ xxxii ] 



BIOGRAPHICAL 

Maida ^ beside him — and a golden gleam 
On the lone eyen, like music on a string, 
As slow he looks, with joy akin to sorrow, 
From holms of Ettrick up to heights of Yarrow. 

VI 

And, as he rests, the creatures of his brain 

Come back, at shut of day, from everywhere. 
Like birds at twilight gathering home, then gain 
Some quiet vantage coign about him there — 
One on a splintered shaft from Melrose fane, 
One in a silent niche of sculptured stair — 
Finding a place to rest as each one can, 
On merlon, bastion, tower, and bartizan.^ 

VII 

We know them all from dwarf to ladye gay ; — 

Buirdly Rob Roy with plume and red claymore, 
Sweet Jeanie Deans aweary of the way. 

The Harper harping of the days no more. 
Proud Maisie in the wood at break of day. 
The gentle maiden of Loch Katrine's shore, 
Haughty Fitz- James with gauntlet on the Gael, 
And honest Dinmont from his Liddesdale. 

VIII 

Then in this dream of stone a band appears, 
By one old harper, blind as Homer, led. 

Golden-haired youths and hoary-headed seers. 
With wreath of bay and thistle round each head ; 

1 Sir Walter Scott's favorite dog. 

2 Each niche has a statue either of one of the leading characters in 
Scott's works or of one of Scotland's poets. 

^ [ xxxiii ] 



liNTRODUCTION 

And in their van, a Saul among his peers, 

The swart-eyed ploughman with the God-like tread - 
The poet-singers these of Scotland's fame, 
Yielding their glory to the larger name. 

IX 

So tells the poet's monument, as now 

It stands, serene in air, above the town, 
Of him, the modest man with lofty brow, 

Encanopied within his vast renown. 
But far away, beneath a birchen bough, 

A ruin hides a grave delved deep and lowne, 
Where sylvan Tweed flows with a stiller wave. 
And makes a ceaseless requiem round the grave. 



Most sweet, most sweet ! to think that there he lies, 
By that dear stream \\dthin that quiet grave, 




DRYBURGH ABBEY, SCOTT S BURIAL PLACE 

[ xxxiv ] 



HISTORICAL SETTING 

While all around, like cloud on cloudland rise 

The woods, the moors, the heights, to which he gave 
A life that lives in men and never dies, 

Breathing in hill, and tree, and running wave. 
These are his monument — those hills and woods. 
Where, like a dove, his spirit rests and broods. 

XI 

For, Spire of Stone, thy glory shall depart. 

Thy statued towers and niches crumble all. 
The ivy creep into thy broken heart. 

And mosses plait for thee a funeral pall ; 
But by the wizardry of God's own art 
The poet hath eterne memorial. 
In all the life of woodland, lake, and lawn, 
Summer and sunset, moonlight, stars, and dawn. 

11. HISTORICAL SETTING OF THE LADY 
OF THE LAKE 

Highlanders and Borderers 

[From Scott's Tales of a Grandfather. This work, originally 
written to interest his crippled grandchild, ^^ Hugh Littlejohn " of 
pathetic memory, in Scottish history, remains and is likely to remain 
the most significant and satisfactory history of Scotland. When 
dreaming of these stories for ^^ little Johnnie Lockhart," Scott makes 
this jotting in the fournal (^' Gurnal " was his humorous spelling 
— ' gurn,' dialectic for ' grumble ') kept by him during the last six years 
of his life : '^ I am persuaded both children and the lower class of 
readers hate books which are written down to their capacity, and 
love those that are composed more for their elders and betters. 
I will make, if possible, a book that a child shall understand, yet a man 
will feel some temptation to peruse should he chance to take it up."] 

[ XXXV ] 



INTRODUCTION 

There were two great divisions of the country, namely, the 
Highlands and the Borders, which were so much wilder and 
more barbarous than the others, that they might be said to be 
altogether without law ; and, although they were nominally 
subjected to the King of Scotland, yet when he desired to 
execute any justice in either of these great' districts, he could 
not do so otherwise than by marching there in person, at the 
head of a strong body of forces, and seizing upon the offenders 
and putting them to death with little or no form of trial. 
Such a rough course of justice, perhaps, made these disorderly 
countries quiet for a short time, but it rendered them still more 
averse to the royal government in their hearts, and disposed 
on the slightest occasion to break out, either into disorders 
amongst themselves or into open rebellion. I must give you 
some more particular account of these wild and uncivilized 
districts of Scotland, and of the particular sort of people who 
were their inhabitants, that you may know what I mean when 
I speak of Highlanders and Borderers. 

The Highlands of Scotland, so called from the rocky and 
mountainous character of the countr}-, consist of a very large 
proportion of the northern parts ol that kingdom. It was 
into these pathless wildernesses that the Romans drove the 
ancient inhabitants of Great Britain : and it \vas from these 
that they afterwards sallied to invade and distress that part 
of Britain which the Romans had conquered, and in some 
degree civilized. The inhabitants of the Highlands spoke, 
and still speak, a language totally different from the Lowland 
Scots. That last language does not greatly differ from English, 
and the inhabitants of both countries easily understand each 
other, though neither of them comprehend the Gaelic, which 
is the language of the Highlanders. The dress of these 
mountaineers was also different from that of the Lowlanders. 

[ xxxvi ] 



HISTORICAL SETTING 

They wore a plaid, or mantle of frieze, or of a striped stuff 
called tartan, one end of which being wrapped round the waist, 
formed a short petticoat, which descended to the knee, while 
the rest was folded round them like a sort of cloak. They had 
buskins made of rawhide ; and those who could get a bonnet 
had that covering for their heads, though many never wore one 
during their whole lives, but had only their own shaggy hair 
tied back by a leathern strap. They went always armed, carrying, 
bows and arrows, large swords, which they wielded with both 
hands, called claymores, poleaxes, and daggers for close fight. 
For defense, they had a round wooden shield, or target, stuck 
full of nails ; and their great men had shirts of mail, not unlike 
to the flannel shirts now worn, only composed of links of iron 
instead of threads of worsted ; but the common men were so 
far from desiring armor that they sometimes threw their plaids 
away and fought in their shirts, which they wore very long 
and large. 

This part of the Scottish nation was divided into clans, that 
is, tribes. The persons composing each of these clans believed 
themselves all to be descended, at some distant period, from 
the same common ancestor, whose name they usually bore. 
Thus, one tribe was called MacDonald, which signifies the 
sons of Donald ; another, MacGregor, or the sons of Gregor ; 
MacNeil, the sons of Neil, and so on. Every one of these 
tribes had its own separate chief, or commander, whom they 
supposed to be the immediate representative of the great 
father of the tribe from whom they were all descended. 
To this chief they paid the most unlimited obediencCj and 
willingly followed his commands in peace or war; not caring 
although, in doing so, they transgressed the laws of the King, 
or went into rebellion against the King himself. Each tribe 
lived in a valley, or district of the mountains, separated from 

[ xxxvii ] 



INTRODUCTION 

the others ; and they often made war upon, and fought 
desperately with, each other. But with Lowlanders they were 
always at war. They differed from them in language^ in 
dress, and " in manners ; and they believed that the richer 
grounds of the low country had formerly belonged to their 
ancestors, and therefore they made incursions upon it, and 
plundered it without mercy. The Lowlanders, on the other 
hand, equal in courage and superior in discipline, gave many 
severe checks to the Highlanders ; and thus there was almost 
constant war or discord between them, though natives of 
the same country. 

Some of the most powerful of the Highland chiefs set them- 
selves up as independent sovereigns. Such were the famous 
Lords of the Isles, called MacDonald, to whom the island 
called the Hebrides, lying on the northwest of Scotland, might 
be said to belong in property. These petty sovereigns made 
alliances with the English in their own name. They took the 
part of Robert the Bruce in the wars and joined him with their 
forces. We shall find that, after his time, they gave great 
disturbance to Scotland. The Lords of Lorn, MacDougals 
by name, were also extremely powerful ; and were able to 
give battle to Bruce, and to defeat him, and place him in the 
greatest jeopardy. He revenged himself afterwards by driving 
John of Lorn out of the country, and by giving great part of 
his possessions to his own nephew. Sir Colin Campbell, who 
became the first of the great family of Argyll, which afterwards 
enjoyed such power in the Highlands. 

Upon the whole, you can easily understand that these High- 
land clans, living among such high and inaccessible mountains, 
and paying obedience to no one save their own chiefs, should 
have been very instrumental in disturbing the tranquillity of 
the kingdom of Scotland. They had many virtues, being a 

[ xxxviii ] 



HISTORICAL SETTING 

kind, brave, and hospitable people, and remarkable for their 
fidelity to their chiefs ; but they were restless, revengeful, 
fo.id of plunder, and delighting rather in war than in peace, 
in disorder than in repose. 

The Border counties were in a state little more favorable to 
a quiet or peaceful government. In some respects the inhab- 
itants of the counties of Scotland lying opposite to England 
greatly resembled the Highlanders, and particularly in their 
being, like them, divided into clans, and having chiefs whom 
they obeyed in preference to the King, or the officers whom 
he placed among them. How clanship came to prevail in the 
Highlands and Borders, and not in the provinces which sepa- 
rated them from each other, it is not easy to conjecture, but 
the fact was so. The Borders are not, indeed, so mountainous 
and inaccessible a country as the Highlands ; but they also are 
full of hills, especially on the more w^estern part of the frontier, 
and were in early times covered with forests, and divided by 
small rivers and morasses into dales and valleys, where the 
different clans lived, making war sometimes on the English, 
sometimes on each other, and sometimes on the more civilized 
country which lay behind them. 

But though the Borderers resembled the Highlanders in their 
mode of government and habits of plundering, and, as it may 
be truly added, in their disobedience to the general government 
of Scotland, yet they differed in many particulars. The High- 
landers fought always on foot ; the Borderers were all horsemen. 
The Borderers spoke the same language [as] the Lowlanders, 
wore the same sort of dress, and carried the same arms. Being 
accustomed to fight against the English, they were also much 
better disciplined than the Highlanders. But in point of obedi- 
ence to the Scottish government, they were not much different 
from the clans of the north. 

[ xxxix ] 



INTRODUCTION 

Military officers, called Wardens, were appointed along the 
Borders, to keep these unruly people in order; but as these wardens 
were generally themselves chiefs of clans, they did not do much to 
mend the evil. Robert the Bruce committed great part of the 
charge of the Borders to the good Lord James of Douglas, who 
fulfilled his trust with great fidelity. But the power which the 
family of Douglas thus acquired proved afterwards, in the hands 
of his successors, very dangerous to the crown of Scotland. 

The Highlanders continued to lead this same marauding 
kind of life, owning no allegiance to any power except that of 
their chief, until about the year 1745, when Charles Edward, 
the last of the Stuarts, made a most desperate attempt to 
regain the throne of his grandfather, James II. 

The Highland clans had remained loyal to the Stuarts dur- 
ing all their misfortunes, and when this brave young prince, 
trusting to their fidelity, landed almost alone upon their shores, 
they flocked to his standard in great numbers. 

They were successful in the earlier engagements, but finally, 
in the battle of Culloden, were utterly defeated, the bravest of 
the clans, together with their chiefs, being slain on the field. 
The government followed up its victory with unrelenting cruelty, 
slaughtering the fugitives, executing the prisoners, and laying 
waste the country, being determined to crush out the last spark 
of this power that had for so many centuries disturbed the 
peace of both kingdoms. 

Fine military roads were built into those inaccessible glens 
and wild mountains, enabling the government to execute the 
laws throughout the realm. Severe laws, also, were passed, 
forbidding the wearing of the plaid, the national costume, and 
the bearing of arms. 

These measures were entirely successful in breaking down this 
patriarchal system ; and, although they seemed unnecessarily 

[xl] 



HISTORICAL SETTING 

harsh at the time, in the end they proved wise and beneficent. 
The Highlanders, no longer able to subsist on plundering the 
Lowlanders, were obliged to turn their attention to some other 
means of gaining a living. Some emigrated to America, others 
enlisted in foreign armies, but the great majority settled down 
to an agricultural life. Mingling together in peaceful pursuits, 
the difference between Highlander and Lowlander soon disap- 
peared, and they became one people, prosperous and happy. 

James V of Scotland (15 12-1542) 

James V [James Fitz-James of The Lady of the Lake\ was 
the son of James IV of Scotland, and Margaret, sister of 
Henry VIII of England. His father having lost his life on the 
battlefield of Flodden, the son became king when but a child of 
less than two years of age. For a while, his mother managed the 
affairs of the kingdom as regent ; but, becoming unpopular, she 
not only lost the regency, but also the control of her son, who 
fell into the hands of the powerful family of the Douglases, who, 
although governing in the name of the young King, neverthe- 
less kept him under such careful guard that the restraint became 
very irksome to him, and he determined to escape from their 
power. In two attempts by force he was unsuccessful ; but 
finally, on pretense of going hunting, he escaped from his cap- 
tivity, and fled into the strong fortress of Stirling Castle, whose 
governor was friendly to him. Here he assembled around him 
the numerous nobility favorable to him, and threatened to declare 
a traitor any of the name of Douglas who should approach within 
twelve miles of his person, or who should attempt to meddle 
with the administration of government. He retained, ever after, 
this implacable resentment against the Douglases, not permitting 
one of the name to settle in Scotland while he lived. James was 
especially ungenerous to one Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie, 

[xli] 



INTRODUCTION 

the one mentioned in the poem who had been a favorite of the 
young King. He was noted for great strength, manly appear- 
ance, and skill in all kinds of exercises. When an old man, 
becoming tired of his exile in England, he resolved to try the 
King's mercy, thinking that, as he had not personally offended 
James, he might find favor on account of their old intimacy. 
He therefore threw himself in the King's way one day as he 
returned from hunting in the Park at Stirling. Although it was 
several years since James had seen him, he knew him at a great 
distance by his firm and stately step. When they met he showed 
no sign of recognizing his old servant. Douglas turned, hoping 
still to obtain a glance of favorable recollection, and ran along 
by the King's side ; and, although James trotted his horse hard, 
and Douglas wore a heavy shirt of mail, yet he reached the 
castle gate as soon as the King. James passed by him, with- 
out the slightest sign of recognition, and entered the castle. 
Douglas, exhausted, sat down at the gate and asked for a cup 
of wine ; but no domestic dared to offer it. The King, how- 
ever, blamed this discourtesy in his servants, saying that, but 
for his oath, he would have received Archibald into his service. 
Yet he sent his command for him to retire to France, where 
the old man soon died of a broken heart. 

Freed from the stern control of the Douglas family, James V 
now began to exercise the government in person, and displayed 
most of the qualities of a wise and good prince. He was hand- 
some in his person, and resembled his father in the fondness 
for military exercises and the spirit of chivalrous honor which 
James IV loved to display. He also inherited his father's love 
of justice, and his desire to establish and enforce wise and 
equal laws which should protect the weak against the oppres- 
sion of the great. It was easy enough to make laws, but to 
put them in vigorous exercise was of much greater diflficulty ; 

[xlii] 



HISTORICAL SETTING 

and, in his attempt to accomplish this laudable purpose, James 
often incurred the ill will of the more powerful nobles. He was 
a well-educated and accomplished man, and, like his ancestor, 
James I, was a poet and musician. He had, however, his 
defects. He avoided his father's failing of profusion, having 
no hoarded treasures to employ on pomp and show ; but he 
rather fell into the opposite fault, being of a temper too parsi- 
monious ; and though he loved state and display he endeavored 
to gratify that taste as economically as possible, so that he has 
been censured as rather close and covetous. He was also, 
though ihe foibles seem inconsistent, fond of pleasure, and 
disposed to too much indulgence. It must be added that, when 
provoked, he was unrelenting even to cruelty ; for which he 
had some apology, considering the ferocity of the subjects 
over whom he reigned. But on the whole James V was an 
amiable man and a good sovereign. 

His first care was to bring the Borders of Scotland to some 
degree of order. As before stated, these were inhabited by 
tribes of men, forming each a different clan, as they were 
called, and obeying no orders save those which were given 
by their chiefs. These chiefs were supposed to represent the 
first founder of the name or family. The attachment of the 
clansmen to the chief was very great ; indeed, they paid 
respect to no one else. In this the Borderers agreed with the 
Highlanders, as also in their love of plunder and neglect of 
the general laws of the country. But the Border men wore 
no tartan dress, and served almost always on horseback, 
whereas the Highlanders acted always on foot. The Borderers 
spoke the Scottish language, and not the Gaelic tongue used 
by the mountaineers. 

The situation of these clans on the frontiers exposed them 
to constant war; so that they thought of nothing else but 

[ xliii ] 



INTRODUCTION 

of collecting bands of their followers together, and making 
incursions, without much distinction, on the English, on the 
Lowland (or inland) Scots, or upon each other. They paid 
little respect either to times of truce or treaties of peace, but 
exercised their depredations without regard to either, and often 
occasioned wars bet^vixt England and Scotland which would 
not otherwise have taken place. 

James's first step was to secure the persons of the principal 
chieftains by whom these disorders were privately encouraged, 
and who might have opposed his purposes, and imprison them 
in separate fortresses. 

He then assembled an army, in which warlike purposes were 
united with those of sylvan sport ; for he ordered all the gentle- 
men in the wild districts which he intended to visit to bring in 
their best dogs, as if his only purpose had been to hunt the 
deer in those desolate regions. This was intended to prevent 
the Borderers from taking the alarm, in which case they would 
have retreated into their mountains and fastnesses, from whence 
it would have been difficult to dislodge them. 

These men had indeed no distinct idea of the offenses which 
they had committed, and consequently no apprehension of the 
King's displeasure against them. The laws had been so long 
silent in that remote and disorderly countr}', that the outrages 
which were practiced by the strong against the weak seemed 
to the perpetrators the natural course of societ}', and to present 
nothing that was worthy of punishment. Thus the King sud- 
denly approached the castles of these great lords and barons 
while they were preparing a great entertainment to welcome 
him, and caused them to be seized and executed. 

There is reason to censure the extent to which James carried 
his severity, as being to a certain degree impolitic and beyond 
doubt cruel and excessive. 

[xliv] 



HISTORICAL SETTING 

In the like manner James proceeded against the Highland 
chiefs, and by executions, forfeitures, and other severe meas- 
ures he brought the Northern mountaineers, as he had already 
done those of the South, into comparative subjection. 

Such were the effects of the terror struck by these general 
executions that James was said to have made ^^ the rush bush 
keep the cow " ; that is to say, that, even in this lawless part 
of the country, men dared no longer make free with property, 
and cattle might remain on their pastures unwatched. James 
was also enabled to draw profit from the lands which the crown 
possessed near the Borders, and is said to have had ten thou- 
sand sheep at one time grazing in Ettrick forest under the 
keeping of one Andrew Bell, who gave the King as good an 
account of the flock as if they had been grazing in the bounds 
of Fife, then the most civilized part of Scotland. 

James V had a custom of going about the country disguised 
as a private person in order that he might hear complaints 
which might not otherwise reach his ears, and, perhaps, that 
he might enjoy amusement which he could not have partaken 
of in his avowed royal character. 

He was also very fond of hunting, and when he pursued that 
amusement in the Highlands he used to wear the peculiar 
dress of that country, having a long and wide Highland shirt, 
and a jacket of tartan velvet, with plaid hose, and everything 
else corresponding. 

The reign of James V was not alone distinguished by his per- 
sonal adventures and pastimes, but is honorably remembered on 
account of wise laws made for the government of his people, and 
for restraining the crimes and violence which were frequently 
practiced among them ; especially those of assassination, burning 
of houses, and driving of cattle, the usual and ready means by 
which powerful chiefs avenged themselves on their feudal enemies. 

[xlv] 



INTRODUCTION 

Had not James become involved in a war with Henry VIII 
of England, he might have been as fortunate a prince as his 
many good qualities deserved ; but, the war going against him, 
in despair and desolation he shut himself up in his palace, re- 
fusing to listen to consolation. A burning fever, the consequence 
of his grief and shame, seized on the unfortunate monarch. 
When they brought him tidings that his wife had given birth 
to a daughter, who afterwards became the brilliant, but most 
unfortunate, Mary Queen of Scots, he only replied, '^ Is it so ? " 
reflecting on the alliance which had placed the Stuart family on 
the throne ; ^' then God's will be done. It came with a lass, and 
it will go with a lass." With these words, presaging the extinc- 
tion of his house, he made a signal of adieu to his courtiers, 
spoke little more, but turned his face to the wall and, when 
scarcely thirty-one years old, in the very prime of life, he died 
of the most melancholy of all diseases, a broken heart. 

III. LITERARY APPRECIATION 

Robert Louis Stevenson in A Gossip on Roma?ice refers to the 
^Mirect romantic opening" of The Lady of the Lake — ^^ The 
stag at eve had drunk his fill," — as '' one of the most spirited 
and poetical in literature." ^' Even after we have flung the book 
aside, the scenery and adventures remain present to the mind, 
a new and green possession, not unworthy of that beautiful 
name, The Lady of the Lake.^^ To Scott as to Stevenson 
every landscape or scrap of scenery has a soul, and that soul is 
a story, and this is at the heart of the romanticism of both. No 
work of Scott's reveals more intimately the spirit and manner 
of his approach to a subject than this metrical romance which, 
to adapt one of Andrew Lang's telling figures, opened the 
enchanted gate of the Trossachs to all the world. Everywhere 
is revealed that humble and unselfish love of nature which makes 

[ xlvi ] 



LITERARY APPRECI ATlOiN 

Scott's enjoyment of hill and dale, woodland and lake, greater 
than that of any of his famous contemporaries. There is pro- 
found truth in Ruskin's delicate analysis of Scott's love of 
nature, in the third volume of Modern Painters^ introduced by 
the fancied soliloquy : '' I, Scott, am nothing, and less than 
nothing ; but these crags, and heaths, and clouds, how great 
they are, how lovely, how forever to be beloved, only for their 
own silent thoughtless sake ! " Nature, as Ruskin says, was 
dear to Scott in a threefold way : dear to him, first, as contain- 
ing the remains and memories of the past ; dear, too, in its 
moorland liberty ; and dear because of that perfect beauty for 
which every modern heart had begun to thirst. In this love of 
beauty, joy in color is a noteworthy constituent. No poet, as 
Stopford Brooke reiterates, is a finer colorist than Scott, and 
in this he continues and gathers up into such glowdng description 
as that of Loch Katrine at the beginning of the Third Canto, 
the old Scottish passion for color effects which is characteristic 
of Gavin Douglas and William Dunbar. 

Along with the superb description of natural scenery and the 
power of the narrative, which finds characteristic expression in the 
well-balanced octosyllabic verse,^ — verse that bears the reader 
on with the go and the spring of a high-mettled but thoroughly 
mastered horse, — The Lady of the Lake is of high ethical temper, 
'' everywhere pervasive, nowhere emphatic." Here, as in the 
earlier poems and the Waverley Novels, is that high, inbred, in- 
disputable ideal of honor in men and women which is found 
in Homer, Virgil, and Dante. With regard to this, Ruskin again 
has hit the white in Fors Clavigera and Modern Painters, and 
his vision and appreciation of these ethical elements in Scott 
deepened with his experience of life. At the last, when he was 

1 See notes on the versification of the poem at the close of this 
volume, page 202. 

[ ^^vii ] 



INTRODUCTION 

laying down his pen forever, Ruskin wrote in Praeterita : ** The 
first two of his great poems, The Lay of the Last Minstrel and 
Marmion, are the reanimation of Border legends, closing with 
the truest and grandest battle-piece that, so far as I know, 
exists in the whole compass of literature (I include the literature 
of all foreign languages, so far as known to me : there is noth- 
ing to approach the finished delineation and flawless majesty of 
conduct in Scott's Flodden) ; — the absolutely fairest in justice 
to both contending nations, the absolutely most beautiful in 
its conceptions of both. And that the palm in that conception 
remains with the Scotch, through the sorrow of their defeat, is 
no more than accurate justice to the national character, 
which rose from the fraternal branches of the Douglas of Tan- 
tallon and the Douglas of Dunkeld. But, — between Tantallon 
and Dunkeld, — what moor or mountain is there over which the 
purple cloud of Scott's imagination has not wrapt its light, in 
those two great poems? — followed by the entirely heroic en- 
chantment of The Lady of the Lake, dwelling on the Highland 
virtue which gives the strength of clanship, and the Lowland 
honor of knighthood, founded on the Catholic religion.'' 

IV. SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION 

\The Lady of the Lake was begun in 1809. During the summer 
of that year Scott visited all the glens, mountains, and forest lands 
described or mentioned in the poem, regions already familiar to him 
from his wanderings there in vacation times when he was a lad at 
college or in his first years as an advocate fthat is. barrister-at-law) in 
active practice. The Perthshire Highlands and the Border district of 
Liddesdale. into which he made the first of what he loved to call his 
^' raids ** in i 792, were his two supreme passions in Scottish landscape. 
The Introduction which follows was written for the edition of 1830, 
published in connection with a re-issue of his complete works in 
verse and prose.] 

[ xlviii ] 



SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION 

After the success of Marmion^ I felt inclined to exclaim with 
Ulysses in the Odyssey : 

OvTos [xkv Srj aeOXos aaaros iKTeriXecTTaL. 

Nrv a?T€ (TKOTTov aWoV' Odys. xxii, 5 

One venturous game my hand has won today — 
Another, gallants, yet remains to play. 

The ancient manners, the habits and customs of the aborigi- 
nal race by whom the Highlands of Scotland were inhabited, 
had always appeared to me peculiarly adapted to poetry. The 
change in their manners, too, had taken place almost within 
my own time, or at least I had learned many particulars con- 
cerning the ancient state of the Highlands from the old men of 
the last generation. I had always thought the old Scottish Gael 
highly adapted for poetical composition. The feuds and political 
dissensions which, half a century earlier, would have rendered 
the richer and wealthier part of the kingdom indisposed to coun- 
tenance a poem the scene of which was laid in the Highlands, 
were now sunk in the generous compassion which the English 
more than any other nation feel for the misfortunes of an 
honorable foe. The poems of Ossian had by their popularity 
sufficiently shown that if writings on Highland subjects were 
qualified to interest the reader, mere national prejudices were, 
in the present day, very unlikely to interfere with their success. 

I had also read a great deal, seen much, and heard more, 
of that romantic country where I was in the habit of spending 
some time every autumn; and the scenery of Loch Katrine 
was connected with the recollection of many a dear friend and 
merry expedition of former days. This poem, the action of 
which lay among scenes so beautiful and so deeply imprinted 
on my recollections, was a labor of love, and it was no less so 
to recall the manners and incidents introduced. The frequent 
B [ xlix ] 



INTRODUCTION 

custom of James IV, and particularly of James V, to walk 
through the kingdom in disguise, afforded me the hint of an 
incident which never fails to be interesting if managed with 
the slightest address or dexterity. 

I may now confess, however, that the employment, though 
attended with great pleasure, was not without its doubts and 
anxieties. A lady, to whom I was nearly related, and with 
whom I lived, during her whole life, on the most brotherly 
terms of affection, was residing with me at the time when the 
work was in progress, and used to ask me what I could pos- 
sibly do to rise so early in the morning (that happening to be 
the most convenient to me for composition). At last I told 
her the subject of my meditations ; and I can never forget 
the anxiety and affection expressed in her reply. ^^ Do not be 
so rash," she said, '^ my dearest cousin. You are already popu- 
lar, — more so, perhaps, than you yourself will believe, or than 
even I, or other partial friends, can fairly allow to your merit. 
You stand high, — do not rashly attempt to climb higher, and 
incur the risk of a fall ; for, depend upon it, a favorite will not 
be permitted even to stumble with impunity." I replied to 
this affectionate expostulation in the words of Montrose, — 

"He either fears his fate too much. 
Or his deserts are small. 
Who dares not put it to the touch 
To gain or lose it all. 

^^Ifl fail," I said, for the dialogue is strong in my recollec- 
tion, " it is a sign that I ought never to have succeeded, and I 
will write prose for life ; you shall see no change in my temper, 
nor will I eat a single meal the worse. But if I succeed, — 

" Up with the bonnie blue bonnet, 
The dirk, and the feather, and a' ! " 

[1] 



SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION 

Afterwards I showed my affectionate and anxious critic the 
first canto of the poem, which reconciled her to my imprudence. 
Nevertheless, though I answered thus confidently, with the 
obstinacy often said to be proper to those who bear my sur- 
name, I acknowledge that my confidence was considerably 
shaken by the warning of her excellent taste and unbiased 
friendship. Nor was I much comforted by her retraction of 
the unfavorable judgment, when I recollected how likely a 
natural partiality was to effect that change of opinion. In such 
cases affection rises like a light on the canvas, improves any 
favorable tints which it formerly exhibited, and throws its 
defects into the shade. 

I remember that about the same time a friend started in to 
^* heeze up my hope," like the ^^ sportsman with his cutty gun,'' 
in the old song. He was bred a farmer, but a man of powerful 
understanding, natural good taste, and warm poetical feeling, 
perfectly competent to supply the w^ants of an imperfect or 
irregular education. He was a passionate admirer of field 
sports, which we often pursued together. 

As this friend happened to dine with me at Ashestiel one 
day, I took the opportunity of reading to him the first canto of 
The Lady of the Lake, in order to ascertain the effect the poem 
was likely to produce upon a person who was but too favorable 
a representative of readers at large. It is of course to be sup- 
posed that I determined rather to guide my opinion by what 
my friend might appear to feel, than by what he might think 
fit to say. His reception of my recitation, or prelection, was 
rather singular. He placed his hand across his brow, and 
listened with great attention, through the whole account of the 
stag hunt, till the dogs threw themselves into the lake to follow 
their master, who embarks with Ellen Douglas. He then started 
up with a sudden exclamation, struck his hand on the table, 

[li] 



INTRODUCTION 

and declared, in a voice of censure calculated for the occasion, 
that the dogs must have been totally ruined by being permitted 
to take the water after such a severe chase. I own I was much 
encouraged by the species of reverie which had possessed so 
zealous a follower of the sports of the ancient Nimrod, who had 
been completely surprised out of all doubts of the reality of the 
tale. Another of his remarks gave me less pleasure. He de- 
tected the identity of the king with the wandering knight, Fitz- 
James, when he winds his bugle to summon his attendants. . . . 

This discovery, as Mr. Pepys says of the rent in his camlet 
cloak, was but a trifle, yet it troubled me ; and I was at a good 
deal of pains to efface any marks by which I thought my secret 
could be traced before the conclusion, when I relied on it with 
the same hope of producing effect, with w^hich the Irish post- 
boy is said to reserve a '' trot for the avenue.'' 

I took uncomxmon pains to verify the accuracy of the local 
circumstances of this story. I recollect, in particular, that to 
ascertain whether I was telling a probable tale I went into 
Perthshire, to see whether King James could actually have 
ridden from the Banks to Loch Vennachar to Stirling Castle 
within the time supposed in the poem, and had the pleasure to 
satisfy myself that it was quite practicable. 

After a considerable delay The Lady of the Lake appeared 
in June, 1 8 1 o ; and its success was certainly so extraordinary 
as to induce me for the moment to conclude that I had at last 
fixed a nail in the proverbially inconstant wheel of Fortune, 
whose stability in behalf of an individual who had so boldly 
courted her favors for three successive times had not as yet 
been shaken. I had attained, perhaps, that degree of reputa- 
tion at which prudence, or certainly timidity, would have made 
a halt and discontinued efforts by which I was far more likely 
to diminish my fame than to increase it. But, as the celebrated 

[lii] 



SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION 

John Wilkes is said to have explained to his late Majesty, that 
he himself, amid his full tide of popularity, was never a Wilkite, 
so I can, with honest truth, exculpate myself from having 
been at any time a partisan of my own poetry, even when it 
was in the highest fashion with the million. It must not be 
supposed that I was either so ungrateful or so superabundantly 
candid as to despise or scorn the value of those whose voice 
had elevated me so much higher than my own opinion told me 
I deserved. I felt, on the contrary, the more grateful to the 
public, as receiving that from partiality to me, which I could not 
have claimed from merit ; and I endeavored to deserve the 
partiality by continuing such exertions as I was capable of for 
their amusement. 

It may be that I did not, in this continued course of scribbling, 
consult either the interest of the public or my own. But the 
former had effectual means of defending themselves, and could, 
by their coldness, sufficiently check any approach to intrusion ; 
and for myself, I had now for several years dedicated my 
hours so much to literary labor that I should have felt difficulty 
in employing myself otherwise; and so, like Dogberry, I gen- 
erously bestowed all my tediousness on the public, comforting 
myself with the reflection that, if posterity should think me 
undeserving of the favor with which I was regarded by my 
contemporaries, '^ they could not but say I had the crown," 
and had enjoyed for a time that popularity which is so much 
coveted. 

I conceived, however, that I held the distinguished situation 
I had obtained, however unworthily, rather like the champion 
of pugilism, on the condition of being always ready to show 
proofs of my skill, than in the manner of the champion of 
chivalry, who performs his duties only on rare and solemn 
occasions. I was in any case conscious that I could not long 

[liii] 



INTRODUCTION 

hold a situation which the caprice rather than the judgment of 
the public had bestowed upon me, and preferred being deprived 
of my precedence by some more worthy rival, to sinking into 
contempt for my indolence, and losing my reputation by what 
Scottish lawyers call the negative prescription. Accordingly, 
those who choose to look at the Introduction to Rokeby will be 
able to trace the steps by which I declined as a poet to figure 
as a novelist ; as the ballad says, '^ Queen Eleanor sunk at 
Charing Cross to rise again at Queenhithe." 

It only remains for me to say that, during my short preemi-. 
nence of popularity, I faithfully observed the rules of modera- 
tion which I had resolved to follow before I began my course 
as a man of letters. If a man is determined to make a noise 
in the world, he is sure to encounter abuse and ridicule, as he 
who gallops furiously through a village must reckon on being 
followed by the curs in full cry. Experienced persons know 
that in stretching to flog the latter, the rider is very apt to 
catch a bad fall ; nor is an attempt to chastise a malignant critic 
attended with less danger to the author. On this principle, I 
let parody, burlesque, and squibs find their own level; and 
while the latter hissed most fiercely, I was cautious never to 
catch them up, as schoolboys do, to throw them back against 
the naughty boy who fired them off, wisely remembering that 
they are in such cases apt to explode in the handling. Let me 
add that my reign (since Byron has so called it) was marked by 
some instances of good nature as well as patience. I never 
refused a literary person of merit such services in smoothing 
his way to the public as were in my power ; and I had the 
advantage — rather an uncommon one with our irritable race — 
to enjoy general favor without incurring permanent ill-will, so 
far as is known to me, among any of my contemporaries. 

Abbotsford, April, 1830 

[liv] 



ORIGINAL DEDICATION AND ARGUMENT 

V. SCOTT'S ORIGINAL DEDICATION 
AND ARGUMENT 



Dedication 



TO THE 

MOST NOBLE 

JOHN JAMES 

MARQUIS OF ABERCORN 

&C., &C., &C. 

THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED 

BY 

THE AUTHOR 



Argument 

The scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity 
of Loch Katrine, in the Western Highlands of Perthshire. The 
time of Action includes Six Days, and the transactions of each 
Day occupy a Canto. 



[Iv] 




THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



CANTO FIRST 

THE CHASE 

ARP of the North ! that mouldering long 
hast hung 
^L On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's 
spring, 
And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, 
Till envious ivy did around thee cling. 
Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — 
O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep ? 
Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, 
Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep. 



Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep ? 



Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 

Was thy voice rnute amid the festal crowd, 

When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. 
Aroused the fearful or subdued the proud. 
At each according pause was heard aloud 

[I] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! 15 

Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed ; 
For still the burden of thy mingtr^y 
Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's 
matchless eye. . ■ 

O, wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand -^' 

That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; 20 

O, wake once more ! though scarce my skill command 
Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : 
Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, 

And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, 

Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 25 

The wizard note has not been touched in vain. 

Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again ! 

I 

The stag at eve had drunk his fill, 

Where danced the moon on Monan's rill. 

And deep his midnight lair had made 30 

In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; 

But when the sun his beacon red 

Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head. 

The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay 

Resounded up the rocky way, 35 

And faint, from farther distance borne. 

Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 

II 

As Chief, who hears his warder call, 
'To arms! the foemen storm the wall,' 

[2] 



i 



FIRST] THE CHASE 

The antlered monarch of the waste 40 

Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 

But ere his fleet career he took, 

The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; 

Like crested leader proud and high 

Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky ; 45 

A moment gazed adown the dale, 

A moment scuffed the tainted gale, 

A moment listened to the cry. 

That thickened as the chase drew nigh ; 

Then, as the headmost foes appeared, 50 

With one brave bound the copse he cleared. 

And, stretching forward free'^nd far. 

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 

III 

Yelled on the view the opening pack ; 

Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back ; 55 

To many a mingled sound at once 

The awakened mountain gave response. 

A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, 

Clattered a hundred steeds along, 

Their peal the merry horns rung out, 60 

A hundred voices joined the shout ; 

With hark and whoop and wild halloo. 

No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. 

Far from the tumult fled the roe. 

Close in her covert cowered the doe, 65 

The falcon^ from her cairn on high. 

Cast on the rout a wondering eye, 

'^ [3] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Till far beyond her piercing ken 

The hurricane had swept the glen. 

Faint, and more faint, its failing din 70 

Returned from cavern, cliff, and Hnn, 

And silence settled, wide and still, 

On the lone wood and mi^htv hill. 

IV 

Less loud the sounds of sylvan war 

Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 75 

And roused the cavern where, 'tis told, 

-A giant made his den of old ; 

For ere that steep ascent was won, 

High in his pathway hung the sun. 

And many a gallant, stayed perforce, 80 

Was fain to breathe his faltering horse. 

And of the trackers of the deer 

Scarce half the lessening pack was near ; 

So shrewdly on the mountain-side 

Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 85 



The noble stag was pausing now 

L'pon the mountain's southern brow, 

Where broad extended, far beneath. 

The varied realms of fair Menteith. 

With anxious eye he wandered o'er 90 

Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, 

And pondered refuge from his toil. 

By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 

[4] 



FIRST] THE CHASE 

But nearer was the copsewood gray 
That waved and wept on Loch Achray, 95 

And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. 
Fresh vigor with the hope returned, 
With flying foot the heath he spurned, 
Held westward with unwearied race, 100 

^And left behind the panting chase. . 

VI 

Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 

As swept the hunt through Cambusmore ; 

What reins w^ere tightened in despair. 

When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; 105 

Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, 

Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith, — 

For twice that day, from shore to shore. 

The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 

Few were the stragglers, following far, no 

That reached the lake of Vennachar ; 

And when the Brigg of Turk was won, 

The headmost horseman rode alone. 

VII 

Alone, but with unbated zeal. 

That horseman plied the scourge and steel ; 115 

For jaded now, and spent with toil. 

Embossed with foam, and dark with soil. 

While every gasp with sobs he drew, 

The laboring stag strained full in view» 

[5] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, 120 

Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed. 

Fast on his flying traces came. 

And all but won that desperate game ; 

F"or, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, 

Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds stanch ; 125 

Nor nearer might the dogs attain, 

Nor farther might the quarry strain. 

Thus up the margin of the lake, 

Between the precipice and brake, 

O'er stock and rock their race they take. 130 



VIII 

The Hunter marked that mountain high, 

The lone lake's western boundary, 

And deemed the stag must turn to bay. 

Where that huge rampart barred the way ; 

Already glorying in the prize, 135 

Measured his antlers with his eyes ; 

For the death-wound and death-halloo 

Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew : — 

But thundering as he came prepared, 

With ready arm and weapon bared, 140 

The wily quarry shunned the shock, 

And turned him from the opposing rock : 

Then, dashing down a darksome glen, 

Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken, 

In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 145 

His solitary refuge took. 

[6] 



FIRST] THE CHASE 

There, while close couched the thicket shed 

Cold dews and wild flowers on his head, 

He heard the baffled dogs in vain 

Rave through the hollow pass amain, 150 

Chiding the rocks that yelled again. 

IX 

Close on the hounds the Hunter came, 

To cheer them on the vanished game ; 

But, stumbling in the rugged dell. 

The gallant horse exhausted fell. 155 

The impatient rider strove in vain 

To rouse him with his spur and rein. 

For the good steed, his labors o'er. 

Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; 

Then, touched with pity and remorse, 160 

He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. 

' I little thought, when first thy rein 

I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 

That Highland eagle e'er should feed 

On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! 165 

Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day. 

That costs thy life, my gallant gray ! ' 

X 

Then through the dell his horn resounds. 

From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 

Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 170 

The sulky leaders of the chase ; 

[7] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Close to their master's side they pressed, 

With drooping tail and humbled crest ; 

But still the dingle's hollow throat 

Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 175 

The owlets started from their dream, 

The eagles answered with their scream, 

Round and around the sounds were cast. 

Till echo seemed an answering blast ; 

And on the Hunter hied his way, 180 

To join some comrades of the day, 

Yet often paused, so strange the road. 

So wondrous were the scenes it showed. 

XI 

The western waves of ebbing day 
Rolled o'er the glen their level way; 185 

Each purple peak, each flinty spire. 
Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
But not a setting beam could glow 
Within the dark ravines below. 
Where twined the path in shadow hid, 190 

Round many a rocky pyramid. 
Shooting abruptly from the dell 
Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; 
Round many an insulated mass. 
The native bulwarks of the pass, 195 

Huge as the tower which builders vain 
Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 
The rocky summits, split and rent. 
Formed turret, dome, or battlement, 
E8] 



THE CHASE 

Or seemed fantastically set 200 

With cupola or minaret, 

Wild crests as pagod ever decked, 

Or mosque of Eastern architect. 

Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 

Nor lacked they many a banner fair ; 205 

7 or, from their shivered brows displayed, 

Far o'er the unfathomable glade, - 

All twinkling with the dewdrop sheen. 

The brier-rose fell in streamers green. 

And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes 210 

Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 

XII 

Boon nature scattered, free and wild. 

Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 

Here eglantine embalmed the air, 

Hawthorne and hazel mingled there; 215 

The primrose pale and violet flower 

Found in each cleft a narrow bower ; 

Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, 

Emblems of punishment and pride. 

Grouped their dark hues with every stain 220 

The weather-beaten crags retain. 

With boughs that quaked at every breath, 

Gray birch and aspen wept beneath ; 

Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 

Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 225 

And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 

His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, 

[9] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Where seemed the cHffs to meet on high, 

His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. 

Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, 230 

Where glistening streamers waved and danced, 

The wanderer's eye could barely view 

The summer heaven's delicious blue; 

So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 

The scenery of a fairy dream. 235 

XIII 

Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep 

A narrow inlet, still and deep, 

Affording scarce such breadth of brim 

As served the wild duck's brood to swim. 

Lost for a space, through thickets veering, 240 

But broader when again appearing. 

Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 

Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ; 

And farther as the Hunter strayed. 

Still broader sweep its channels made. 245 

The shaggy mounds no longer stood. 

Emerging from entangled wood. 

But, wave-encircled, seemed to float, 

Like castle girdled with its moat ; 

Yet broader floods extending still 250 

Divide them from their parent hill. 

Till each, retiring, claims to be 

An islet in an inland sea. 



[10] 



FIRST] THE GHASE 

XIV 

And now, to issue from the glen, 

No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, 255 

Unless he climb with footing nice 

A far-projecting precipice. 

The broom's tough roots his ladder made, 

The hazel saplings lent their aid ; 

And thus an airy point he won, 260 

Where, gleaming with the setting sun, 

One burnished sheet of living gold, 

Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled^ 

In all her length far winding lay. 

With promontory, creek, and bay, 265 

And islands that, empurpled bright, 

Floated amid the livelier light, 

And mountains that like giants stand 

To sentinel enchanted land. 

High on the south, huge Benvenue 270 

Down to the lake in masses threw 

Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled. 

The fragments of an earlier world ; 

A wildering forest feathered o'er 

His ruined sides and summit hoar, 275 

While on the north, through middle air, 

Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare.,- 

From -the steep promontory gazed— : z.:::z3 
The stranger; raptured and amazed;- i.:..C'3 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And, 'What a scene were here,' he cried, 2S0 

' For princely pomp or churchman's pride ! 

On this bold brow, a lordly tower ; 

In that soft vale, a lady's bower ; 

On vonder meadow far awav, 

The turrets of a cloister gray ; 285 

How blithely might the bugle-horn 

Chide on the lake the lingering mom ! 

How sweet at eve the lover's lute 

Chime when the groves were still and mute ! 

And when the midnight moon should lave 290 

Her forehead in the silver wave, 

How solemn on the ear would come 

The holy matins' distant hum, 

While the deep peal's commanding tone 

Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 295 

A sainted hermit from his cell. 

To drop a bead with ever}' knell ! 

And bugle, lute, and bell, and all. 

Should each bewildered stranger call 

To friendly feast and lighted hall. yx^ 



XVI 

' Blithe were it then to wander here ! 

But now — beshrew yon nimble deer — 

Like that same hermit's, thin and spare. 

The copse must give my evening fare ; 

Some mossy bank my couch must be, 505 

^om? pistljj)g jDok my cBCU>pyi 



FIRST] THE CHASE 

Yet pass we that ; the war and chase 

Give Httle choice of resting-place ; — 

A summer night in greenwood spent 

Were but to-morrow's merriment : 310 

But hosts may in these wilds abound, 

Such as are better missed than found ; 

To meet with Highland plunderers here 

Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — 

I am alone; — my bugle-strain 315 

May call some straggler of the train ; 

Or, fall the worst that may betide. 

Ere now this falchion has been tried. 

XVII 

But scarce again his horn he wound, 

When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 320 

From underneath an aged oak 

That slanted from the islet rock, 

A damsel guider of its way, 

A little skiff shot to the bay. 

That round the promontory steep 325 

Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 

Eddying, in almost viewless wave. 

The weeping willow twig to lave. 

And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, 

The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 330 

The boat had touched this silver strand 

Just as the Hunter left his stand, 

And stood concealed amid the brake. 

To view this Lady of the Lake. 

[13] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

The maiden paused, as if again 335 

She thought to catch the distant strain. 

With head upraised, and look intent. 

And eye and ear attentive bent. 

And locks flung back, and lips apart, 

Like monument of Grecian art, 340 

In listening mood, she seemed to stand, 

The-guardian Naiad of the strand. 



XVIII 

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 

A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 

Of finer form or lovelier face ! 345 

What though the sun, with ardent frown, 

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — 

The sportive toil, which, short and light. 

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright. 

Served too in hastier swell to show 350 

Short glimpses of a breast of snow : 

What though no rule of courtly grace 

To measured mood had trained her pace, — 

A foot more light, a step more true. 

Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew ; 355 

E'en the slight harebell raised* its head. 

Elastic from her airy tread : 

What though upon her speech there hung 

The accents of the mountain tongue, — 

Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, 360 

The listener held his breath to hear ! 

[14] 



FIRST] THE CHASE 



XIX 



A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid ; 

Her satin snood, her silken plaid, 

Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. 

And seldom was a snood amid 365 

Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid. 

Whose glossy black to shame might bring 

The plumage of the raven's wing ; 

And seldom o'er a breast so fair 

Mantled a plaid with modest care, 370 

And never brooch the folds combined 

Above a heart more good and kind. 

Her kindness and her worth to spy, 

You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; 

Not Katrine in her mirror blue 375 

Gives back the shaggy banks more true. 

Than every free-born glance confessed 

The guileless movements of her breast; 

Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 

Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, 380 

Or filial love was glowing there, 

Or meek devotion poured a prayer, 

Or tail of injury called forth 

The indignant spirit of the North. 

One only passion unrevealed 385 

With maiden pride the maid concealed,^ 

Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — 

O, need I tell that passion's name ? 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

XX 

Impatient of the silent horn, 

Now on the gale her voice was borne : — 390 

' Father ! ' she cried ; the rocks around 

Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 

Awhile she paused, no answer came ; — 

' Malcolm, was thine the blast ? ' the name 

Less resolutely uttered fell, 395 

The echoes could not catch the swell. 

*A stranger I,' the Huntsman said, 

Advancing from the hazel shade. 

The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar 

Pushed her light shallop from the shore, 400 

And when a space was gained between, 

Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; — 

So forth the startled swan would swing. 

So turn to prune his ruffled wing. 

Then safe, though fluttered and amazed, 405 

She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 

Not his the form, nor his the eye, 

That youthful maidens wont to fly. 

XXI 

On his bold visage middle age 

Had slightly pressed its signet sage, 410 

Yet had not quenched the open truth 

And fiery vehemence of youth ; 

Forward and frolic glee was there, 

The will to do, the soul to dare, 

[16] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 415 

Of hasty love or headlong ire. 

His limbs were cast in manly mould 

For hardy sports or contest bold ; 

And though in peaceful garb arrayed, 

And weaponless except his blade, 420 

His stately mien as well implied 

A high-born heart, a martial pride. 

As if a baron's crest he wore. 

And sheathed in armor trode the shore. 

Slighting the petty need he showed, 425 

He told of his benighted road ; 

His ready speech flowed fair and free, 

In phrase of gentlest courtesy, 

Yet seemed that tone and gesture bland 

Less used to sue than to command. 430 

XXII 

Awhile the maid the stranger eyed, 

And, reassured, at length replied. 

That Highland halls were open still 

To wildered wanderers of the hill. 

' Nor think you unexpected come 435 

To yon lone isle, our desert home ; 

Before the heath had lost the dew. 

This morn, a couch was pulled for you ; 

On yonder mountain's purple head 

Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 440 

And our broad nets have swept the mere. 

To' furnish forth your evening cheer/ -— 

[18] 



FIRST] THE CHASE 

' Now, by the rood, my lovely maid, 

Your courtesy has erred,' he said ; 

' No right have I to claim, misplaced, 445 

The welcome of expected guest. 

A wanderer, here by fortune tost. 

My way, my friends, my courser lost, 

I ne'er before, believe me, fair. 

Have ever drawn your mountain air, • 450 

Till on this lake's romantic strand 

I found a fay in fairy land ! * — 

XXIII 

' I well believe,' the maid replied, 

As her light skiff approached the side, — 

* I well believe, that ne'er before 455 

Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore ; 

But yet, as far as yesternight, 

Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — 

A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent 

Was on the visioned future bent. 460 

He saw your steed, a dappled gray, 

Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; 

Painted exact your form and mien. 

Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green. 

That tasselled horn so gayly gilt, 465 

That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, 

That cap with heron plumage trim. 

And yon two hounds so dark and grim. 

He bade that all should ready be 

To grace a guest of fair degree ; 470 

[19] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

But light I held his prophecy, 

And deemed it was my father's horn 

Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne/ 



XXIV 

The stranger smiled : — ' Since to your home 

A destined errant-knight I come, 475 

Announced by prophet sooth and old. 

Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold, 

I '11 lightly front each high emprise 

For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 

Permit me first the task to guide 480 

Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.' 

The maid, with smile suppressed and sly. 

The toil unwonted saw him try ; 

For seldom, sure, if e'er before, 

His noble hand had grasped an oar : 485 

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew. 

And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; 

With heads erect and whimpering cry, 

The hounds behind their passage ply. 

Nor frequent does the bright oar break 490 

The darkening mirror of the lake, 

Until the rocky isle they reach. 

And moor their shallop on the beach. 

XXV 

The stranger viewed the shore around ; 

' T was all so close with copse wood bound, 495 

[20] . 



FiRSTj THE CHASE 

Nor track nor pathway might declare 

That human foot frequented there, 

Until the mountain maiden showed 

A clambering unsuspected road, 

That winded through the tangled screen, . 500 

And opened on a narrow green, 

Where weeping birch and willow round 

With their long fibres swept the ground. 

Here, for retreat in dangerous hour. 

Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 505 

XXVI 

It was a lodge of ample size. 
But strange of structure and device ; 
Of such materials as around 
The workman's hand had readiest found. 
■ Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 510 
And by the hatchet rudely squared, 
To give the walls their destined height, 
The sturdy oak and ash unite ; 
While moss and clay and leaves combined 
To fence each crevice from the wind. 5^5 

The lighter pine-trees overhead 
Their slender length for rafters spread, 
And withered heath and rushes dry 
Supplied a russet canopy. 

Due westward, fronting to the green, 520 

A rural portico was seen. 
Aloft on native pillars borne. 
Of mountain fir with bark unshorn, 

^21] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 
The ivy and Idaean vine, * 525 

The clematis, the favored flower 
Which boasts the name of virgin-bower, 
And every hardy plant could bear 
^j^ch Katrine's keen and searching air^ 
An instant in this porch she stayed, 530 

And gayly to the stranger said : 
'On heaven and on thy lady call. 
And enter the enchanted hall ! ' 

XXVII 

' My hope, my heaven, my trust must be. 

My gentle guide, in following thee!'— 535 

He crossed the threshold, — and a clang 

Of angry steel that instant rang. 

To his bold brow his spirit rushed. 

But soon for vain alarm he blushed, 

When on the floor he saw displayed, 540 

Cause of the din, a naked blade 

Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung 

Upon a stag's huge antlers swung ; 

For all around, the walls to grace, 

Hung trophies of the fight or chase : 545 

A target there, a bugle here, 

A battle-axe, a hunting-spear, ilic- 

And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, 

With the tusked trophies of the boar. 

Here grins the wolf as when he died, 550 

And there, the wild-cat's brindled^ hide : I'.j 

[22] 



FIRST] THE CHASE 

The frontlet of the elk adorns, 

Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; 

Pennons and flags defaced and stained, 

That blackening streaks of blood retained, 555 

And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 

With otter's fur and seal's unite. 

In rude and uncouth tapestry all. 

To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 

XXVIII 

The wondering stranger round him gazed, 560 

And next the fallen weapon raised : — 

Few were the arms whose sinewy strength 

Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 

And as the brand he poised and swayed, 

' I never knew but one,' he said, 565 

'Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield 

A blade like this in battle-field.' 

She sighed, then smiled and took the word : 

'You see the guardian champion's sword; 

As light it trembles in his hand 570 

As in my grasp a hazel wand : 

My sire's tall form might grace the part 

Of Ferragus or Ascabart, 

But in the absent giant's hold 

Are women now, and menials old.' 575 

XXIX 

The mistress of the mansion came. 
Mature of age, a graceful dame, 

[23] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Whose easy step and stately port 

Had well become a princely court, 

To whom, though more than kindred knew, 580 

Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 

Meet welcome to her guest she made. 

And every courteous rite was paid 

That hospitality could claim. 

Though all unasked his birth and name. 585 

Such then the reverence to a guest, 

That fellest foe might join the feast. 

And from his deadliest foeman's door 

Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. 

At length his rank the stranger names, 590 

' The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James ; 

Lord of a barren heritage. 

Which his brave sires, from age to age, 

By their good swords had held with toil ; 

His sire had fallen in such turmoil, 595 

And he, God wot, was forced to stand 

Oft for his right with blade in hand. 

This morning with Lord Moray's train 

He chased a stalwart stag in vain. 

Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer, 600 

Lost his good steed, and wandered here/ 

XXX 

Fain would the Knight in turn require 

The name and state of Ellen's sire. 

Well showed the elder lady's mien 

That courts and cities she had seen ; 605 

[24] 



FIRST] THE CHASE 

Ellen, though more her looks displayed 

The simple grace of sylvan maid, 

In speech and gesture, form and face. 

Showed she was come of gentle race. 

'Twere strange in ruder rank to find 6io 

Such looks, such manners, and such mind. 

Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, 

Dame Margaret heard with silence grave ; 

Or Ellen, innocently gay, 

Turned all inquiry light away : — 615 

' Weird women we ! by dale and down 

We dwell, afar from tower and town. 

We stem the flood, we ride the blast. 

On wandering knights our spells we cast ; 

While viewless minstrels touch the string, 620 

Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing.' 

She sung, and still a harp unseen 

Filled up the symphony between. 

XXXI 

Song 

' Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er. 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; 625 
Dream of battled fields no more, - 

Days of danger, nights of waking. - 
In our isle's enchanted hall, 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing. 
Fairy strains of music fall, r ,rf:£r:z'r^r''\ 630 

Every sense in slumber dewing^; \y 

[25] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 

Dream of fighting fields no more ; 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 

Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 635 

* No rude sound shall reach thine ear. 

Armor's clang or war-steed champing. 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 640 

At the daybreak from the fallow. 
And the bittern sound his drum, 

Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near, 
Guards nor warders challenge here, 645 

Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing. 
Shouting clans of squadrons stamping.' 



XXXII 

She paused, — then, blushing, led the lay, 

To grace the stranger of the day. 

Her mellow notes awhile prolong 650 

The cadence of the flowing song, 

Till to her lips in measured frame 

The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 

Song Contimced 

* Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done ; 

While our slumbrous spells assail ye, 655 

[26] 



FIRST] - THE CHASE 

Dream not, with the rising sun, 

Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; 

Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying : 
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen 660 

How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done ; 
Think not of the rising sun. 
For at dawning to assail ye 
Here no bugles sound reveille.' 665 

XXXIII 

The hall was cleared, — the stranger's bed 

Was there of mountain heather spread, 

Where oft a hundred guests had lain, 

And dreamed their forest sports again. 

But vainly did the heath-flower shed 670 

Its moorland fragrance round his head ; 

Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest 

The fever of his troubled breast. 

In broken dreams the image rose 

Of varied perils, pains, and woes : 675 

His steed now flounders in the brake, 

Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; 

Now leader of a broken host. 

His standard falls, his honor 's lost. 

Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 680 

Chase that worst phantom of the night ! — 

Again returned the scenes of youth. 

Of confident, undoubting truth ; 

[27] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Again his soul he interchanged 

With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 685 

They come, in dim procession led, 

The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; 

As warm each hand, each brow as gay. 

As if they parted yesterday. 

And doubt distracts him at the view, — 690 

O were his senses false or true? 

Dreamed he of death or broken vow, 



XXXIV 

At length, with Ellen in a grove 
He seemed to walk and speak of love ; 695 

She listened with a blush and sigh. 
His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 
He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 
And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : 
The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 700 

L'pon its head a helmet shone ; 
Slowly enlarged to giant size, 
With darkened cheek and threatening eyes. 
The grisly \dsage, stern and hoar. 
To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 705 

He woke, and, panting with affright, 
Recalled the vision of the night. 
The hearth's decaying brands were red, 
And deep and dusky lustre shed. 
Half showing, half concealing, all 710 

The uncouth trophies of the hall. 
[2.8] 



FIRST] THE CHASE 

Mid those the stranger fixed his eye 

Where that huge falchion hung on high, 

And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng. 

Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, 715 

Until, the giddy whirl to cure, 

He rose and sought the moonshine pure. 

XXXV 

The wild rose, eglantine, and broom 
Wasted around their rich perfume ; 
The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm ; 720 

The aspen slept beneath the calm ; 
The silver light, with quivering glance, 
Played on the water's still expanse, — 
Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 
Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 725 

He felt its calm, that v/arrior guest, 
While thus he communed with his breast : — 
' Why is it, at each turn I trace 
Some memory of that exiled race ? 
Can I not mountain maiden spy, 730 

But she must bear the Douglas eye ? 
Can I not view a Highland brand, 
But it must match the Douglas hand ? 
Can I not frame a fevered dream, 
But still the Douglas is the theme ? 735 

I '11 dream no more, — by manly mind 
xNot even in sleep is will resigned. 
My midnight orisons said o'er, 
I '11 turn to rest, and dream no more.' 

[29] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

His midnight orisons he told, 740 

A prayer with every bead of gold, 

Consigned to heaven his cares and woes. 

And sunk in undisturbed repose. 

Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. 

And morning dawned on Benvenue. 745 



[30] 




CANTO SECOND 



THE ISLAND 



A MORN the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 
T is morning prompts the Hnnet's bUthest lay, 
All nature's children feel the matin spring 
Of life reviving, with reviving day ; 
And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 5 

Wafting the stranger on his way again, 

Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray, 
And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain. 
Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-' 
bane ! 

II 
Song 

* Not faster yonder rowers* might 10 

Flings from their oars the spray, 
Not faster yonder rippling bright. 
That tracks the shallop's course in light, 

Melts in the lake away. 
Than men from memory erase 15 

[31] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

The benefits of former days ; 

Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while. 

Nor think again of the lonely isle. 

' High place to thee in royal court, ^ 

High place in battled line, 20 

Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport ! 

Where beauty sees the brave resort. 
The honored meed be thine ! 

True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, 

Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, 25 

And lost in love's and friendship's smile 

Be memory of the lonely isle ! 

Ill 
Song Contimted 

' But if beneath yon southern sky 

A plaided stranger roam. 
Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, 30 

And sunken cheek and heavy eye, 

Pine for his Highland home ; 
Then, warrior, then be thine to show 
The care that soothes a wanderer's woe ; 
Remember then thy hap erewhile, 35 

A stranger in the lonely isle. 

' Or if on life's uncertain main 

Mishap shall mar thy sail ; 
If faithful,; wise, and brave in vain, 
Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 40 

Beneath the fickle gale ; 

[32] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, 
On thankless courts, or friends estranged. 
But come where kindred worth shall smile, 
To greet thee in the lonely isle.' 45 

IV 

As died the sounds upon the tide. 

The shallop reached the mainland side, 

And ere his onward way he took. 

The stranger cast a lingering look, 

Where easily his eye might reach 50 

The Harper on the islet beach, 

Reclined against a blighted tree, 

As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 

To minstrel meditation given, 

His reverend brow was raised to heaven, 55 

As from the rising sun to claim 

A sparkle of inspiring flame. 

His hand, reclined upon the wire, 

Seemed watching the awakening fire ; 

So still he sat as those who wait 60 

Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; 

So still, as if no breeze might dare 

To lift one lock of hoary hair; 

So still, as life itself were fled 

In the last sound his harp had sped. 65 

V 

Upon a rock with lichens wild, 
Beside him Ellen sat and smiled. — 

[33] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Smiled she to see the stately drake 

Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, 

While her vexed spaniel from the beach 70 

Bayed at the prize beyond his reach ? 

Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows. 

Why deepened on her cheek the rose ? — 

Forgive, forgive. Fidelity ! 

Perchance the maiden smiled to see 75- 

Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, 

And stop and turn to wave anew ; 

And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 

Condemn the heroine of my lyre, 

Show me the fair would scorn to spy 80 

And prize such conquest of her eye ! 

VI 

While yet he loitered on the spot. 

It seemed as Ellen marked him not ; 

But when he turned him to the glade, 

One courteous parting sign she made ; 85 

And after, oft the knight would say, 

That not when prize of festal day 

Was dealt him by the brightest fair 

Who e*er wore jewel in her hair, 

So highly did his bosom swell 90 

As at that simple mute farewell. 

Now with a trusty mountain-guide. 

And his dark stag-hounds by his side, 

He parts, — the maid, unconscious still. 

Watched him wind slowly round the hill ; 95 

[34] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

But when his stately form was hid, 
The guardian in her bosom chid, — 

* Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid ! ' 
Twas thus upbraiding conscience said, — 

* Not so had Malcolm idly hung loo 
On the smooth phrase of Southern tongue ; 

Not so had Malcolm strained his eye 

Another step than thine to spy/ — 

*Wake, Allan-bane,' aloud she cried 

To the old minstrel by her side, — 105 

* Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! 
I '11 give thy harp heroic theme ; 
And warm thee with a noble name : 
Pour forth the glory of the Graeme ! ' 

Scarce from her lip the word had rushed, no 
When deep the conscious maiden blushed ; 
For of his clan, in hall and bower, 
Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower. 

VII 

The minstrel waked his harp, — three times 

Arose the well-known martial chimes, 115 

And thrice their high heroic pride 

In melancholy murmurs died. 

' Vainly thou bidst, O noble maid,' 

Clasping his withered hands, he said, 

' Vainly thou bidst me wake the strain, 120 

Though all unwont to bid in vain. 

Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 

Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned ! 

[35] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

I touch the chords of joy, but low 

And mournful answer notes of woe ; 125 

And the proud march which victors tread 

Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 

O, well for me, if mine alone 

That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! 

If, as my tuneful fathers said, 130 

This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed, 

Can thus its master's fate foretell. 

Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! 

VIII 

' But ah ! dear lady, thus it sighed. 

The eve thy sainted mother died ; 135 

And such the sounds which, while I strove 

To wake a lay of war or love. 

Came marring all the festal mirth. 

Appalling me who gave them birth. 

And, disobedient to my call, 140 

Wailed loud through Both well's bannered hall. 

Ere Douglases, to ruin driven, 

Were exiled from their native heaven. — 

O ! if yet worse mishap and woe 

^ly master's house must undergo, 145 

Or aught but weal to Ellen fair 

Brood in these accents of despair. 

No future bard, sad Harp ! shall fling 

Triumph or rapture from thy string ; 

One short, one final strain shall flow, 150 

Fraught with unutterable woe, 

[36] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, 
Thy master cast him down and die ! ' 

IX 

[ Soothing she answered him : ' Assuage, 
Mine honored friend, the fears of age ; 155 

All melodies to thee are known 
That harp has rung or pipe has blown, 
In Lowland vale or Highland glen. 
From Tweed toSpey — what marvel, then, 
At times unbidden notes should rise, 160 

Confusedly bound in memory's ties. 
Entangling, as they rush along. 
The war-march with the funeral song? — 
Small ground is now for boding fear ; 
Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 165 

My sire, in native virtue great, 
Resigning lordship, lands, and state, 
Not then to fortune more resigned 
Than yonder oak might give the wind ; 
The graceful foliage storms may reave, 170 

The noble stem they cannot grieve. 
For me ' — she stooped, and, looking round. 
Plucked a blue harebell from the ground, — 
' For me, whose memory scarce conveys 
An image of more spendid days, 175 

This little flower that loves the lea 
May well my simple emblem be ; 
It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose 
That in the King's own garden grows; 

[37] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And when I place it in my hair, i8o 

Allan, a bard is bound to swear 

He ne'er saw coronet so fair.' 

Then playfully the chaplet wild 

She wTeathed in her dark locks, and smiled. 



Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, 185 

Wiled the old Harper's mood away. 

With such a look as hermits throw, 

When angels stoop to soothe their woe, " 

He gazed, till fond regret and pride 

Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : 190 

' Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st 

The rank, the honors, thou hast lost ! 

O, might I live to see thee grace. 

In Scotland's court, thy birthright place. 

To see my favorite's step advance 195 

The lightest in the courtly dance, 

The cause of every gallant's sigh, 

And leading star of every eye, 

And theme of every minstrel's art. 

The Lady of the Bleeding Heart ! ' 200 

XI 

* Fair dreams are these,' the maiden cried, — 
Light was her accent, yet she sighed, — 
' Yet is this mossy rock to me 
Worth splendid chair and canopy ; 

[38] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Nor would my footstep spring more gay 205 

In courtly dance than blithe strathspey, 

Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 

To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 

And then for suitors proud and high, 

To bend before my conquering eye, — 210 

Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say. 

That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 

The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride, 

The terror of Loch Lomond's side, 

Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 215 

A Lennox foray — for a day.' — 



XII 

The ancient bard her glee repressed : 

' 111 hast thou chosen theme for jest ! 

For who, through all this western wild. 

Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled ? 220 

In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; 

I saw, when back the dirk he drew, 

Courtiers give place before the stride 

Of the undaunted homicide ; 

And since, though outlawed, hath his hand 225 

Full sternly kept his mountain land. 

Who else dared give — ah ! woe the day. 

That I such hated truth should say! — 

The Douglas, like a stricken deer. 

Disowned by every noble peer, 230 

Even the rude refuge we have here ? 

[39] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Alas, this wild marauding Chief 

Alone might hazard our relief, 

And now thy maiden charms expand. 

Looks for his guerdon in thy hand; 235 

Full soon may dispensation sought. 

To back his suit, from Rome be brought. 

Then, though an exile on the hill, 

Thy father, as the Douglas, still 

Be held in reverence and fear ; 240 

And though to Roderick thou 'rt so dear 

That thou mightst guide with silken thread. 

Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread. 

Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 

Thy hand is on a lion's mane.' — 245 



XIII 

' Minstrel,' the maid replied, and high 

Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 

'My debts to Roderick's house I know: 

All that a mother could bestow 

To Lady Margaret's care I owe, 250 

Since first an orphan in the wild 

She sorrowed o'er her sister's child ; 

To her brave chieftain son, from ire 

Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, 

A deeper, holier debt is owed ; 255 

And, could I pay it with my blood, 

Allan ! Sir Roderick should command 

My blood, my life, — but not my hand. 

[40] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 

A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; 260 

Rather through realms beyond the sea, 

Seeking the world's cold charity, 

Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, 

And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 

An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 265 

Than wed the man she cannot love. 

XIV 

'Thou shak'st, good friend, thy tresses gray, — 
That pleading look, what can it say 
But what I own ? — I grant him brave. 
But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave ; 270 
And generous, — save vindictive mood 
Or jealous transport chafe his blood : 
I grant him true to friendly band, 
As his claymore is to his hand ; 
But O ! that very blade of steel 275 

More mercy for a foe would feel : 
I grant him liberal, to fling 
Among his clan the wealth they bring, 
When back by lake and glen they wind. 
And in the Lowland leave behind, 280 

Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 
A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 
The hand that for my father fought 
I honor, as his daughter ought ; 
But can I clasp it reeking red 285 

From peasants slaughtered in their shed ? 
B [41] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

No ! wildly while his virtues gleam, 

They make his passions darker seem, 

And flash along his spirit high, 

Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 290 

While yet a child, — and children know. 

Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 

I shuddered at his brow of gloom. 

His shadowy plaid and sable plume ; 

A maiden grown, I ill could bear 295 

His haughty mien and lordly air : 

But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim. 

In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 

I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er 

A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 300 

To change such odious theme were best, — 

What think'st thou of our stranger guest ? ' — 

XV 

' What think I of him ? — woe the while 

That brought such wanderer to our isle ! 

Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 305 

For Tine-man forged by fairy lore. 

What time he leagued, no longer foes, 

His Border spears with Hotspur's bows. 

Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow 

The footsteps of a secret foe. 310 

If courtly spy hath harbored here. 

What may we for the Douglas fear.? 

What of this island, deemed of old 

Clan- Alpine's last and surest hold ? 

[42] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

If neither spy nor foe, I pray 315 

What yet may jealous Roderick say ? — 

Nay, wave not thy disdainful head ! 

Bethink thee of the discord dread 

That kindled when at Beltane game 

Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme ; 320 

Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, 

Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud : 

Beware ! — But hark ! what sounds are these ? 

My dull ears catch no faltering breeze. 

No weeping birch nor aspens wake, 325 

Nor breath is dimpling in the lake ; 

Still is the canna's hoary beard, 

Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 

And hark again ! some pipe of war 

Sends the bold pibroch from afar/ 330 

XVI 

Far up the lengthened lake were spied 

Four darkening specks upon the tide. 

That, slow enlarging on the view. 

Four manned and masted barges grew. 

And, bearing downwards from Glengyle. 335 

Steered full upon the lonely isle ; 

The point of Brianchoil they passed. 

And, to the windward as they cast. 

Against the sun they gave to shine 

The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine. 340 

Nearer and nearer as they bear. 

Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 

[43] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Now might you see the tartans brave, 

And plaids and plumage dance and wave : 

Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 345 

As his tough oar the rower plies ; 

See, flashing at each sturdy stroke. 

The wave ascending into smoke ; 

See the proud pipers on the bow. 

And mark the gaudy streamers flow 350 

From their loud chanters down, and sweep 

The furrowed bosom of the deep. 

As, rushing through the lake amain, 

They plied the ancient Highland strain. 

xvil 

Ever, as on they bore, more loud 355 

And louder rung the pibroch proud. 
At first the sounds, by distance tame, 
Mellowed along the waters came, 
And, lingering long by cape and bay, 
Wailed every harsher note away, 360 

Then bursting bolder on the ear. 
The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear. 
Those thrilling sounds that call the might 
Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight. 
Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 365 

The mustering hundreds shake the glen, 
And hurrying at the signal dread. 
The battered earth returns their tread. 
Then prelude light, of livelier tone, 
. Expressed their merry marching on, 370 

[44] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Ere peal of closing battle rose, 

With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ; 

And mimic din of stroke and ward. 

As broadsword upon target jarred ; 

And groaning pause, ere yet again, 375 

Condensed, the battle yelled amain : 

The rapid charge, the rallying shout. 

Retreat borne headlong into rout. 

And bursts of triumph, to declare 

Clan-Alpine's conquest — all were there. 380 

Nor ended thus the strain, but slow 

Sunk in a moan prolonged and low. 

And changed the conquering clarion swell 

For wild lament o'er those that fell. 

XVIII 

The war-pipes ceased, but lake and hill 385 

Were busy with their echoes still ; 

And, when they slept, a vocal strain 

Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, 

While loud a hundred clansmen raise 

Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 390 

Each boatman, bending to his oar. 

With measured sweep the burden bore. 

In such wild cadence as the breeze 

Makes through December's leafless trees. 

The chorus first could Allan know, 395 

* Roderick Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! ' 

And near, and nearer as they rowed, 

Distinct the martial ditty flowed. 

[45] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

XIX 

Boat Song 

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! 

Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine ! 400 

Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line ! 

Heaven send it happy dew, 

Earth lend it sap anew, 
Gayly to bourgeon and broadly to grow, 405 

While every Highland glen 

Sends our shout back again, 
* Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! ' 

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain. 

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade ; 410 

When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the 
mountain. 
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 
Moored in the rifted rock. 
Proof to the tempest's shock. 
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; 415 

Menteith and Breadalbane, then. 
Echo his praise again, 
' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! ' 

XX 

Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, 

And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied; 420 

Glen-Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, 
And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. 

[46] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Widow and Saxon maid 

Long shall lament our raid, 
Think of Clan- Alpine with fear and with woe ; 425 

Lennox and Leven-glen 

Shake when they hear again, 
' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! ' 

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! 

Stretch to your oars for the ever-green Pine ! 430 

O that the rosebud that graces yon islands 

Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! 
O that some seedling gem. 
Worthy such noble stem 
Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow ! 435 
Loud should Clan-Alpine then 
Ring from her deepmost glen, 
* Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! ' 

XXI 

With all her joyful female band 

Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 440 

Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, 

And high their snowy arms they threw, 

As echoing back with shrill acclaim. 

And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name ; 

While, prompt to please, with mother's art, 445 

The darling passion of his heart. 

The Dame called Ellen to the strand, 

To greet her kinsman ere he land : 

' Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, 

[47] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ? ' 450 

Reluctantly and slow, the maid 

The unwelcome summoning obeyed, 

And when a distant bugle rung, 

In the mid-path aside she sprung : — 

* List, Allan-bane ! From mainland cast 455 

I hear my father's signal blast. 

Be ours,' she cried, ' the skiff to guide. 

And waft him from the mountain-side/ 

Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright. 

She darted to her shallop light, 460 

And, eagerly while Roderick scanned. 

For her dear form, his mother's band, 

The islet far behind her lay. 

And she had landed in the bay. 

XXII 

Some feelings are to mortals given 465 

With less of earth in them than heaven ; 

And if there be a human tear 

From passion's dross refined and clear, 

A tear so limpid and so meek 

It would not stain an angel's cheek, 470 

'T is that which pious fathers shed 

Upon a duteous daughter's head ! 

And as the Douglas to his breast 

His darhng Ellen closely pressed. 

Such holy drops her tresses steeped, 475 

Though 't was an hero's eye that weeped. 

Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 

[48] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 
Marked she that fear — affection's proof — 
Still held a graceful youth aloof ; 480 

No ! not till Douglas named his name, 
Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. 

^ XXIII \^ 

Allan, with wistful look the while, 

Marked Roderick landing on the isle ; 

His master piteously he eyed, ' 485 

Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, 

Then dashed with hasty hand away 

From his dimmed eye the gathering spray ; 

And Douglas, as his hand he laid 

On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said : 490 

* Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 

In my poor follower's glistening eye ? 

I '11 tell thee : — he recalls the day 

When in my praise he led the lay 

O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, 495 

While many a minstrel answered loud. 

When Percy's Norman pennon, won 

In bloody field, before me shone. 

And twice ten knights, the least a name 

As mighty as yon Chief may claim, 500 

Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 

Was I of all that marshalled crowd. 

Though the waned crescent owned my might. 

And in my train trooped lord and knight, 505 

[49] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Though Blantyre hymned her hoUest lays, 

And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, 

As when this old man's silent tear. 

And this poor maid's affection dear, 

A welcome give more kind and true 510 

Than aught my better fortunes knew. 

Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, — 

O, it out-beggars all I lost ! ' 

XXIV 

Delightful praise ! — like summer rose, 

That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 515 

The bashful maiden's cheek appeared. 

For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 

The flush of shame-faced joy to hide. 

The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide ; 

The loved caresses of the maid 520 

The dogs with crouch and whimper paid ; 

And, at her whistle, on her hand 

The falcon took his favorite stand. 

Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye, 

Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 525 

And, trust, while in such guise she stood, 

Like fabled Goddess of the wood, 

That if a father's partial thought 

O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught, 

Well might the lover's judgment fail 530 

To balance with a juster scale ; 

For with each secret glance he stole, 

The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 

[so] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

XXV 

Of stature fair, and slender frame, 

But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 535 

The belted plaid and tartan hose 

Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; 

His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, 

Curled closely round his bonnet blue. 

Trained to the chase, his eagle eye 540 

The ptarmigan in snow could spy ; 

Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, 

He knew, through Lennox and Menteith ; 

Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe 

When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 545 

And scarce that doe, though winged with fear. 

Outstripped in speed the mountaineer : 

Right up Ben Lomond could he press, 

And not a sob his toil confess. 

His form accorded with a mind 550 

Lively and ardent, frank and kind ; 

A blither heart, till Ellen came. 

Did never love nor sorrow tame ; 

It danced as lightsome in his breast 

As played the feather on his crest. 555 

Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth. 

His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, 

And bards, who saw his features bold 

When kindled by the tales of old. 

Said, were that youth to manhood grown, 560 

Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 

[SI] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, 
But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. 

XXVI 

Now back they wend their watery way, 

And, ' O my sire ! ' did Ellen say, 565 

* Why urge thy chase so far astray ? 

And why so late returned ? And why ' — 

The rest was in her speaking eye. 

' My child, the chase I follow far, 

'T is mimicry of noble war ; 570 

And with that gallant pastime reft 

Were all of Douglas I have left. 

I met young Malcolm as I strayed 

Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade ; 

Nor strayed I safe, for all around 575 

Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground. 

This youth, though still a royal ward. 

Risked life and land to be my guard. 

And through the passes of the wood 

Guided my steps, not unpursued ; 580 

And Roderick shall his welcome make. 

Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 

Then must he seek Strath- Endrick glen. 

Nor peril aught for me again.' 

xxvii 

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 585 

Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme, 
Yet, not in action, word, or eye, 

[52] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Failed aught in hospitality. 

In talk and sport they whiled away 

The morning of that summer day ; 590 

But at high noon, a courier light 

Held secret parley with the knight, 

Whose moody aspect soon declared 

That evil were the news he heard. 

Deep thought seemed toiling in his head ; 595 

Yet was the evening banquet made 

Ere he assembled round the flame 

His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, 

And Ellen too ; then cast around 

His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, 600 

As studying phrase that might avail 

Best to convey unpleasant tale. 

Long with his dagger's hilt he played. 

Then raised his haughty brow, and said : — 



XXVIII 

' Short be my speech ; — nor time affords, 605 

Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 

Kinsman and father, — if such name 

Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim ; 

Mine honored mother ; — Ellen, — why, 

My cousin, turn away thine eye ? — 610 

And Graeme, in whom I hope to know 

Full soon a noble friend or foe, 

When age shall give thee thy command, 

And leading in thy native land, — 

[S3] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

List all! — The King's vindictive pride 615 

Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, 

Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came 

To share their monarch's sylvan game. 

Themselves in bloody toils were snared, 

And when the banquet they prepared, 620 

And wide their loyal portals flung. 

O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 

Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, 

From Yarrow braes and banks of Tweed, 

Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, 625 

And from the silver Teviot's side ; 

The dales, where martial clans did ride, 

Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 

This tyrant of the Scottish throne, 

So faithless and so ruthless known, 630 

Now hither comes ; his end the same, 

The same pretext of sylvan game. 

What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye 

By fate of Border chivalry. 

Yet more ; amid Glenfinlas' green, 635 

Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 

This by espial sure I know : 

Your counsel in the streight I show/ 

XXIX 

Ellen and Margaret fearfully 
Sought comfort in each other's eye, 640 

Then turned their ghastly look, each one. 
This to her sire, that to her son, 

[54] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

The hasty color went and came 

In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme, 

But from his glance it well appeared 645 

T was but for Ellen that he feared ; 

While, sorrowful, but undismayed, 

The Douglas thus his counsel said : 

' Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar. 

It may but thunder and pass o'er ; 650 

Nor will I here remain an hour. 

To draw the lightning on thy bower ; 

For well thou know'st, at this gray head 

The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 

For thee, who, at thy King's command, 655 

Canst aid him with a gallant band. 

Submission, homage, humbled pride. 

Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside. 

Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 

Ellen and I will seek apart 660 

The refuge of some forest cell. 

There, like the hunted quarry, dwell. 

Till on the mountain and the moor 

The stern pursuit be passed and o'er.' — 

XXX 

* No, by mine honor,' Roderick said, 665 

' So help me Heaven, and my good blade ! 

No, never ! Blasted be yon Pine, 

My father's ancient crest and mine, 

If from its shade in danger part 

The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! 670 

[55] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Hear my blunt speech : grant me this maid 

To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; 

To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, 

Will friends and allies flock enow ; 

Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 675 

Will bind to us each Western Chief. 

When the loud pipes my bridal tell, 

The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 

The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ; 

And when I light the nuptial torch, 680 

A thousand villages in flames 

Shall scare the slumbers of King James ! — 

Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, 

And, mother, cease these signs, I pray; 

I meant not all my heat might say. — 685 

Small need of inroad or of fight, 

When the sage Douglas may unite 

Each mountain clan in friendly band, 

To guard the passes of their land. 

Till the foiled King from pathless glen 690 

Shall bootless turn him home again/ 



XXXI 

There are who have, at midnight hour, 

In slumber scaled a dizzv tower. 

And, on the verge that beetled o'er 

The ocean tide's incessant roar, 695 

Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream. 

Till wakened by the morning beam ; 

[56] 



THE ISLAND 

When, dazzled by the eastern glow, 

Such startler cast his glance below, 

And saw unmeasured depth around, 700 

And heard unintermitted sound, 

And thought the battled fence so frail, 

It waved like cobweb in the gale ; — 

Amid his senses' giddy wheel. 

Did he not desperate impulse feel, 705 

Headlong to plunge himself below, 

And meet the worst his fears foreshow ? — 

Thus Ellen, dizzy and astound, 

As sudden ruin yawned around. 

By crossing terrors wildly tossed, 710 

Still for the Douglas fearing most, 

Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, 

To buy his safety with her hand. 

XXXII 

Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 

In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, 715 

And eager rose to speak, — but ere 

His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 

Had Douglas marked the hectic strife, 

Where death seemed combating with life ; 

For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 720 

One instant rushed the throbbing blood, 

Then ebbing back, with sudden sway. 

Left its domain as wan as clay. 

' Roderick, enough ! enough ! ' he cried, 

' My daughter cannot be thy bride ; 725 

[57] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Not that the blush to wooer dear, 

Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 

It may not be, — forgive her. Chief, 

Nor hazard aught for our relief. 

Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 730 

Will level a rebellious spear. 

'T was I that taught his youthful hand 

To rein a steed and wield a brand ; 

I see him yet, the princely boy ! 

Not Ellen more my pride and joy ; 735 

I love him still, despite my wrongs 

By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. 

O, seek the grace you well may find. 

Without a cause to mine combined ! ' 

XXXIII 

Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode ; 740 

The waving of his tartans broad. 

And darkened brow, where wounded pride 

With ire and disappointment vied. 

Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light, 

Like the ill Demon of the night, 745 

Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 

Upon the nighted pilgrim's way ; 

But, unrequited Love ! thy dart 

Plunged deepest its envenomed smart, 

And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, 750 

At length the hand of Douglas wrung. 

While eyes that mocked at tears before 

With bitter drops were running o'er. 

[58] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

The death-pangs of long-cherished hope 

Scarce in that ample breast had scope, 755 

But, struggling with his spirit proud. 

Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud, 

While every sob — so mute were all — 

Was heard distinctly through the hatll. 

The son's despair, the mother's look, . 760 

111 might the gentle Ellen brook ; 

She rose, and to her side there came, 

To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. 



XXXIV 

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — 

As flashes flame through sable smoke, 765 

Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, 

To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, 

So the deep anguish of despair 

Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 

With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 770 

On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid : 

* Back, beardless boy ! ' he sternly said, 

' Back, minion ! holdst thou thus at naught 

The lesson I so lately taught ? 

This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, 775 

Thank thou for punishment delayed/ 

Eager as greyhound on his game. 

Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. 

' Perish my name, if aught afford 

lis Chieftain safety save his sword ! * - . 780 

[59] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Thus as they strove their desperate hand 

Griped to the dagger or the brand, 

And death had been — but -Douglas rose, 

And thrust between the struggHng foes 

His giant strength : — ' Chieftains, forego ! 785 

I hold the first who strikes my foe. — 

Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! 

What ! is the Douglas fallen so far. 

His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil 

Of such dishonorable broil ? ' . ^ ' 790 

Sullen and slowly they unclasp. 

As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, 

And each upon his rival glared. 

With foot advanced and blade half bared. 

XXXV 

Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 795 

Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung. 

And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, 

As faltered through terrific dream. 

Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 

And veiled his wrath in scornful word : 800 

' Rest safe till morning ; pity 't were 

Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! 

Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, 

Roderick will keep the lake and fell. 

Nor lackey with his f reeborn clan 805 

The pageant pomp of earthly man. 

More would he of Clan-Alpine know. 

Thou Canst our strength and passes show, ~- 

[60] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Malise, what ho ! ' — his henchman came : 
' Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme/ 8io 

Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold : 
' Fear nothing for thy favorite hold ; 
The spot an angel deigned to grace 
Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. 
Thy churlish courtesy for those 815 

Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 
As safe to me the mountain way 
At midnight as in blaze of day, 
Though with his boldest at his back 
Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — 820 

Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay, 
Naught here of parting will I say. 
Earth does not hold a lonesome glen 
So secret but we meet again. — 
Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,' — 825 

• He said, and left the sylvan bower. 

XXXVI 

Old Allan followed to the strand — 

Such was the Douglas's command — 

And anxious told, how, on the morn, 

The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, 830 

The Fiery Cross should circle o'er 

Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor ^ 

Much were the peril to the Graeme 

From those who to the signal came ; 

Far up the lake 't were safest land, 835 

Himself would row him to the strand. 

[61] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

He gave his counsel to the wind, 
While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, 
Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled, 
His ample plaid in tightened fold, 840 

And stripped his limbs to such array 
As best might suit the watery way, — 

XXXVII 

Then spoke abrupt : ' Farewell to thee, 

Pattern of old fidelity ! ' 

The Minstrel's hand he kindly pressed, — 845 

' O, could I point a place of rest ! 

My sovereign holds in ward my land. 

My uncle leads my vassal band ; 

To tame his foes, his friends to aid. 

Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 850 

Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme 

Who loves the chieftain of his name. 

Not long shall honored Douglas dwell 

Like hunted stag in mountain cell ; 

Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare, — 855 

I may not give the rest to air ! 

Tell Roderick Dhu I owed him naught, 

Not the poor service of a boat. 

To waft me to yon mountain-side/ 

Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 860 

Bold o'er the flood his head he bore. 

And stoutly steered him from the shore ; 

And Allan strained his anxious eye. 

Far mid the lake his form to spy, 

[62] 



SECOND] THE ISLAND 

Darkening across each puny wave, 865 

To which the moon her silver gave. 

Fast as the cormorant could skim, 

The swimmer plied each active limb ; 

Then landing in the moonlight dell, 

Loud shouted of his weal to tell. 870 

The Minstrel heard the far halloo. 

And joyful from the shore withdrew. 



[63] 




CANTO THIRD 

THE GATHERING ^ / «^; 

I 



3 rm fC^^^t^ 



^IME rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, 
Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
Jl And told our marvelling boyhood legends store 
Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea, 
How are they blotted from the things that be ! 5 

How few, all weak and withered of their force. 

Wait on the verge of dark eternity, 
Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse. 
To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his cease- 
less course. 

Yet live there still who can remember well, 10 

How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, 
Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell. 

And solitary heath, the signal knew; 

And fast the faithful clan around him drew. 
What time the warning note was keenly wound, 15 

What time aloft their kindred banner flew, 

[65] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound, 
And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round. 

II 

The Summer dawn's reflected hue 

To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; 20 

Mildly and soft the western breeze 

Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees, 

And the pleased lake, like maiden coy. 

Trembled but dimpled not for joy : 

The mountain shadows on her breast 25 

Were neither broken nor at rest ; 

In bright uncertainty they lie, 

Like future joys to Fancy's eve. 

The water-lily to the light 

Her chalice reared of silver bright; 30 

The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 

Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn ; 

The gray mist left the mountain-side. 

The torrent showed its glistening pride ; 

Invisible in flecked sky 35 

The lark sent down her revelry ; 

The blackbird and the speckled thrush 

Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ; 

In answer cooed the cushat dove 

Her notes of peace and rest and love. 40 

III 

No thought of peace, no thought of rest. 

Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 

[66] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

With sheathed broadsword in his hand, 

Abrupt he paced the islet strand, 

And eyed the rising sun, and laid 45 

His hand on his impatient blade. 

Beneath a rock, his vassals* care 

Was prompt the ritual to prepare, 

With deep and deathf ul meaning fraught ; 

For such Antiquity had taught 50 

Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 

The Cross of Fire should take its road. 

The shrinking band stood oft aghast 

At the impatient glance he cast ; — 

Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 55 

As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, 

She spread her dark sails on the wind. 

And, high in middle heaven reclined. 

With her broad shadow on the lake. 

Silenced the warblers of the brake. 60 

IV 

A heap of withered boughs was piled. 

Of juniper and rowan wild. 

Mingled with shivers from the oak. 

Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. 

Brian the Hermit by it stood, 65 

Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 

His grizzled beard and matted hair 

Obscured a visage of despair ; 

His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er, 

The scars of frantic penance bore. 7or 

[67] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

That monk, of savage form and face, 

The impending danger of his race 

Had drawn from deepest soHtude, 

Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 

Not his the mien of Christian priest, 75 

But Druid's, from the grave released. 

Whose hardened heart and eye might brook 

On human sacrifice to look ; 

And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore 

Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. 80 

The hallowed creed gave only worse 

And deadlier emphasis of curse. 

No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer, 

His cave the pilgrim shunned with care ; 

The eager huntsman knew his bound, 85 

And in mid chase called off his hound ; 

Or if, in lonely glen or strath, 

The desert-dweller met his path, 

He prayed, and signed the cross between, 

While terror took devotion's mien. 90 



Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. 
His mother watched a midnight fold, 
Built deep within a dreary glen. 
Where scattered lay the bones of men 
In some forgotten battle slain, 95 

And bleached by drifting wind and rain. 
It might have tamed a warrior's heart 
To view such mockery of his art ! 
[68] 



th: the gathering 

The knot-grass fettered there the hand 

Which once could burst an iron band ; loo 

Beneath the broad and ample bone, 

That bucklered heart to fear unknown, 

A feeble and a timorous guest. 

The fieldfare framed her lowly nest ; 

There the slow blindworm left his slime 105 

On the fleet limbs that mocked at time ; 

And there, too, lay the leader's skull. 

Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full, 

For heath-bell with her purple bloom 

Supplied the bonnet and the plume. no 

All night, in this sad glen, the maid 

Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade : 

She said no shepherd sought her side. 

No hunter's hand her snood untied. 

Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 115 

The virgin snood did Alice wear ; 

Gone was her maiden glee and sport, 

Her maiden girdle all too short, 

Nor sought she, from that fatal night. 

Or holy church or blessed rite, 120 

But locked her secret in her breast. 

And died in travail, unconfessed. 

VI 

Alone, among his young compeers, 

Was Brian from his infant years ; 

A moody and heart-broken boy, 125 

Estranged from sympathy and joy, 

[69] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Bearing each taunt which careless tongue 

On his mysterious Hneage flung. 

Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 

To wood and stream his hap to wail, 130 

Till, frantic, he as truth received 

What of his birth the crowd believed. 

And sought, in mist and meteor fire. 

To meet and know his Phantom Sire ! 

In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, 135 

The cloister oped her pitying gate ; 

In vain the learning of the age 

Unclasped the sable-lettered page ; 

Even in its treasures he could find 

Food for the fever of his mind. 140 

Eager he read whatever tells 

Of magic, cabala, and spells. 

And every dark pursuit allied 

To curious and presumptuous pride ; 

Till with fired brain and nerves overstrung, 145 

And heart with mystic horrors wrung. 

Desperate he sought Benharrow's den. 

And hid him from the haunts of men. 

VII 

The desert gave him visions wild. 

Such as might suit the spectre's child. 150 

Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, 

He watched the wheeling eddies boil. 

Till from their foam his dazzled eyes 

Beheld the River Demon rise : ^^ . 

[^70] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

The mountain mist took form and limb 155 

Of noontide hag or goblin grim ; 

The midnight wind came wild and dread, 

Swelled with the voices of the dead ; 

Far on the future battle-heath 

His eye beheld the ranks of death : 160 

Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled, 

Shaped forth a disembodied world. 

One lingering sympathy of mind 

Still bound him to the mortal kind ; 

The only parent he could claim 165 

Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. 

Late had he heard, in prophet's dream. 

The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ; 

Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast 

Of charging steeds, careering fast 170 

Along Benharrow's shingly side, 

Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride ; 

The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 

All augured ill to Alpine's line. 

He girt his loins, and came to show 175 

The signals of impending woe. 

And now stood prompt to bless or ban, 

As bade the Chieftain of his clan. 

VIII 

*T was all prepared ; — and from the rock 

A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 180 

Before the kindling pile was laid. 

And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 

[71] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Patient the sickening victim eyed 

The Hfe-blood ebb in crimson tide 

Down his clogged beard and shaggy Hmb, 185 

Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 

The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 

A slender crosslet framed with care, 

A cubit's length in measure due ; 

The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 190 

Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 

Their shadows ^o'er Clan- Alpine's grave, 

And, answering Lomond's breezes deep. 

Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 

The Cross thus formed he held on high, 195 

With wasted hand and haggard eye, 

And strange and mingled feelings woke. 

While his anathema he spoke : — 

IX 

'Woe to the clansman who shall view 

This symbol of sepulchral yew, 200 

Forgetful that its branches grew 

Where weep the heavens their holiest dew 

On Alpine's dwelling low ! 
Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, 
He ne'er shall mingle with their dust, 205 

But, from his sires and kindred thrust, 
Each clansman's execration just 

Shall doom him wrath and woe.' 
He paused ; — the word the vassals took. 
With forward step and fiery look, 210 

[72] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

On high their naked brands they shook, 
Their clattering targets wildly strook ; 

And first in murmur low, 
Then, like the billow in his course. 
That far to seaward finds his source, 215 

And flings to shore his mustered force. 
Burst with loud roar their answer hoarse, 

' Woe to the traitor, woe ! ' 
Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew. 
The joyous w^olf from covert drew, 220 

The exulting eagle screamed afar, — 
They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 



The shout was hushed on lake and fell, 

The Monk resumed his muttered spell : 

Dismal and low its accents came, 225 

The while he scathed the Cross with flame ; 

And the few words that reached the air. 

Although the holiest name was there. 

Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 

But when he shook above the crowd 230 

Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : — 

'Woe to the wretch who fails to rear 

At this dread sign the ready spear ! 

For, as the flames this symbol sear. 

His home, the refuge of his fear, 235 

A kindred fate shall know ; 
Far o'er its roof the volumed flame 
Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 

[73] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

While maids and matrons on his name 

Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 240 

And infamy and woe.' 
Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
As goshawk's whistle on the hill. 
Denouncing misery and ill. 
Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 245 

Of' curses stammered slow; 
Answering with imprecation dread, 
' Sunk be his home in embers red ! 
And cursed be the meanest shed 
That e'er shall hide the houseless head 250 

We doom to want and woe ! ' 
A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! 
And the gray pass where birches wave 

On Beala-nam-bo. 255 



XI 

Then deeper paused the priest anew, 

And hard his laboring breath he drew. 

While, with set teeth and clenched hand, 

And eyes that glowed like fiery brand. 

He meditated curse more dread, 260 

And deadlier, on the clansman's head 

Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid. 

The signal saw and disobeyed. 

The crosslet's points of sparkling wood 

He quenched among the bubbling blood, 265 

[74] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

And, as again the sign he reared, 

Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : 

' When flits this Cross from man to man, 

Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan. 

Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 270 

Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! 

May ravens tear the careless eyes. 

Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! 

As sinks that blood-stream in the earth. 

So may his heart 's-blood drench his hearth ! 275 

As dies in hissing gore the spark. 

Quench thou his light. Destruction dark ! 

And be the grace to him denied. 

Bought by this sign to all beside ! ' 

He ceased ; no echo gave again 280 

The murmur of the deep Amen. 

XII 

Then Roderick with impatient look 

From Brian's hand the symbol took : 

' Speed, Malise, speed ! ' he said, and gave 

The crosslet to his henchman brave. 285 

' The muster-place be Lanrick mead — 

Instant the time — speed, Malise, .speed ! ' 

Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, 

A barge across Loch Katrine flew : 

High stood the henchman on the prow ; 290 

So rapidly the barge-men row. 

The bubbles, where they launched the boat. 

Were all unbroken and afloat, 

[75] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Dancing in foam and ripple still, 

When it had neared the mainland hill ; 295 

And from the silver beach's side 

Still was the prow three fathom wide, 

When lightly bounded to the land 

The messenger of blood and brand., 

XIII 

Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hide 300 

On fleeter foot was never tied. 

Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of haste 

Thine active sinews never braced. 

Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, 

Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 305 

With short and springing footstep pass 

The trembling bog and false morass ; 

Across the brook like roebuck bound, 

And thread the brake like questing hound ; 

The crag is high, the scaur is deep, 310 

Yet shrink not from the desperate leap : 

Parched are thy burning lips and brow, 

Y^et by the fountain pause not now ; 

Herald of battle, fate, and fear. 

Stretch onward in thy fleet career! 315 

The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 

Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough, 

Xor pliest thou now thy flying pace 

With rivals in the mountain race ; 

But danger, death, and warrior deed 320 

Are in thy course — speed, ]Malise, speed ! 

[76] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

XIV 

Fast as the fatal symbol flies, 

In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; 

From winding glen, from upland brown, 

They poured each hardy tenant down. 325 

Nor slacked the messenger his pace ; 

He showed the sign, he named the place. 

And, pressing forward like the wind, 

Left clamor and surprise behind. 

The fisherman forsook the strand, 330 

The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ; 

With changed cheer, the mower blithe 

Left in the half -cut swath his scythe; 

The herds without a keeper strayed. 

The plough was in mid-furrow stayed, 335 

The falconer tossed his hawk away, 

The hunter left the stag at bay; 

Prompt at the signal of alarms. 

Each son of Alpine rushed to arms ; 

So swept the tumult and affray 340 

Along the margin of Achray. 

Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er 

Thy banks should echo sounds of fear! 

The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep 

So stilly on thy bosom deep, ' 345 

The lark's blithe carol from the cloud 

Seems for the scene too gayly loud. 



[78] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

XV 

Speed, Malise, speed ! The lake is past, 

Duncraggan's huts appear at last. 

And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 350 

Half hidden in the copse so green ; 

There mayst thou rest, thy labor done. 

Their lord shall speed the signal on. — 

As stoops the hawk upon his prey. 

The henchman shot him down the way. 355 

What woful accents load the gale ? 

The funeral yell, the female wail ! 

A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 

A valiant warrior fights no more. 

Who, in the battle or the chase, 360 

At Roderick's side shall fill his place ! — 

Within the hall, where torch's ray 

Supplies the excluded beams of day. 

Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, 

And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 365 

His stripling son stands mournful by, 

His youngest weeps, but knows not why ; 

The village maids and matrons round 

The dismal coronach resound. 

XVI 

Coronach 

He is gone on the mountain, 370 

He is lost to the forest, 
Like a summer-dried fountain. 

When our need was the sorest. 

[79] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

The font, reappearing, 

From the rain-drops shall borrow, 375 

But to us comes no cheering, 

To Duncan no morrow ! 

The hand of the reaper 

Takes the ears that are hoary, 
But the voice of the weeper 380 

Wails manhood in glory. 
The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searest. 
But our flower was in flushing. 

When blighting was nearest. 385 

Fleet foot on the correi. 

Sage counsel in cumber. 
Red hand in the foray, 

How sound is thy slumber ! 
Like the dew on the mountain, 390 

Like the foam on the river, 
Like the bubble on the fountain. 

Thou art gone, and forever ! 

XVII 

See Stumah, who, the bier beside. 

His master's corpse with wonder eyed, 395 

Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo 

Could send like lightning o*er the dew. 

Bristles his crest, and points his ears, 

As if some stranger step he hears. 

[80] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread, 400 

Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, 

But headlong haste or deadly fear 

Urge the precipitate career. 

AH stand aghast : — unheeding all, 

The henchman bursts into the hall ; 405 

Before the dead man's bier he stood. 

Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood ; 

' The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 

Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed ! ' 

XVIII 

Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 410 

Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 

In haste the stripling to his side 

His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; 

But when he saw his mother's eye 

Watch' him in speechless agony, 415 

Back to her opened arms he flew. 

Pressed on her lips a fond adieu, — 

'Alas ! ' she sobbed, — ' and yet be gone. 

And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son ! ' 

One look he cast upon the bier, 420 

Dashed from his eye the gathering tear. 

Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast. 

And tossed aloft his bonnet crest, 

Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed, 

First he essays his fire and speed, 425 

He vanished, and o'er moor and moss 

Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 

[81] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Suspended was the widow's tear 

While yet his footsteps she could hear ; 

And when she marked the henchman's eye 430 

Wet with unwonted sympathy, 

' Kinsman/ she said, ' his race is run 

That should have sped thine errand on ; 

The oak has fallen, — the sapling bough 

Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 435 

Yet trust I well, his duty done, 

The orphan's God will guard my son. 

And you, in many a danger true. 

At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, 

To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! 440 

Let babes and women wail the dead.' 

Then weapon-clang and martial call 

Resounded through the funeral hall. 

While from the walls the attendant band 

Snatched sword and targe with hurried hand ; 445 

And short and fitting energy 

Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye. 

As if the sounds to warrior dear 

Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. 

But faded soon that borrowed force ; 450 

Grief claimed his right, and tears their course. 

XIX 

Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, 

It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 

O'er dale and hill the summons flew. 

Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew ; 455 

[82] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

The tear that gathered in his eye 

He left the mountain-breeze to dry ; 

Until, where Teith's young waters roll 

Betwixt him and a wooden knoll 

That graced the sable strath with green, 460 

The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 

Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge. 

But Angus paused not on the edge ; 

Though the dark waves danced dizzily. 

Though reeled his sympathetic eye, 465 

He dashed amid the torrent's roar : 

His right hand high the crosslet bore. 

His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide 

And stay his footing in the tide. 

He stumbled twice, — the foam splashed high, 470 

With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; 

And had he fallen, — forever there. 

Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir ! 

But still, as if in parting life, 

Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife, 475 

Until the opposing bank he gained. 

And up the chapel pathway strained. 

XX 

A blithesome rout that morning-tide 

Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. 

Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 480 

To Norman, heir of Armandave, 

And, issuing from the Gothic arch. 

The bridal now resumed their march. 

[83] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

In rude but glad procession came 

Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame ; 485 

And plaided youth, with jest and jeer, 

Which snooded maiden would not hear ; 

And children, that, unwitting why, 

Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; 

And minstrels, that in measures vied 490 

Before the young and bonny bride, 

Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose 

The tear and blush of morning rose. 

With virgin step and bashful hand 

She held the kerchief's snowy band. 495 

The gallant bridegroom by her side 

Beheld his prize with victor's pride, 

And the glad mother in her ear 

Was closely whispering word of cheer. 



AV] 



XXI 



ho meets them at the churchyard gate ? 500 
The messenger of fear and fate ! 
Haste in his hurried accent lies. 
And grief is swimming in his eyes. 
All dripping from the recent flood, 
Panting and travel-soiled he stood, 505 

The fatal sign of fire and sword 
Held forth, and spoke the appointed word : 
' The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 
Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed ! ' 
And must he change so soon the hand 510 

Just linked to his by holy band, 

[84] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

For the fell Cross of blood and brand ? 

And must the day so blithe that rose, 

And promised rapture in the close, 

Before its setting hour, divide 515 

The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? 

O fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! 

Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust. 

Her summons dread, brook no delay ; 

Stretch to the race, — away ! away ! 520 



XXII 

Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. 

And lingering eyed his lovely bride, 

Until he saw the starting tear 

Speak woe he might not stop to cheer ; 

Then, trusting not a second look, 525 

In haste he sped him up the brook. 

Nor backward glanced till on the heath 

Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. — 

What in the racer's bosom stirred ? 

The sickening pang of hope deferred, 530 

And memory with a torturing train 

Of all his morning visions vain. 

Mingled with love's impatience, came 

The manly thirst for martial fame ; 

The stormy joy of mountaineers 535 

Ere yet they rush upon the spears ; 

And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning, 

And hope, from well-fought field returning, 

[85] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

With war's red honors on his crest, 

To clasp his Mary to his breast. 540 

Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, 

Like fire from flint he glanced away. 

While high resolve and feeling strong 

Burst into voluntary song. 

XXIII 

The heath this night must be my bed, 545 

The bracken curtain for my head, 
My lullaby the warder's tread, 

Far, far, from love and thee, Mary ; 
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid. 
My couch may be my bloody plaid, 550 

My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid ! 

It will not waken me, Mary ! 

I may not, dare not, fancy now 

The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, 

I dare not think upon thy vow, 555 

And all it promised me, Mary. 
No fond regret must Norman know ; 
When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe. 
His heart must be like bended bow, 

His foot like arrow free, Mary. 560 

A time will come with feeling fraught, 
For, if I fall in battle fought. 
Thy hapless lover's dying thought 

Shall be a thought on thee, Mary, 
[86] 



THE GATHERING 

And if returned from conquered foes, 565 

How blithely will the evening close, 
How sweet the linnet sing repose. 

To my young bride and me, Mary ! 



XXIV 

Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 

Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 570 

Rushing in conflagration strong 

Thy deep ravines and dells along. 

Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 

And reddening the dark lakes below ; 

Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 575 

As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. 

The signal roused to martial coil 

The sullen margin of Loch Voil, 

Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source 

Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course ; 580 

Thence southward turned its rapid road 

Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad. 

Till rose in arms each man might claim 

A portion in Clan-Alpine's name. 

From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 585 

Could hardly buckle on his brand. 

To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 

Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 

Each valley, each sequestered glen, 

Mustered its little horde of men, 590 

[87] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

That met as torrents from the height 

In Highland dales their streams unite, 

Still gathering, as they pour along, • 

A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 

Till at the rendezvous they stood 595 

By hundreds prompt for blows and blood, 

Each trained to arms since life began, 

Owning no tie but to his clan. 

No oath but by his chieftain's hand. 

No law but Roderick Dhu's command. 600 

XXV 

That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 
Surveyed the skirts of Ben venue, 
And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath. 
To view the frontiers of Menteith. 
All backward came with news of truce ; 605 

Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce, 
In Rednock courts no horsemen wait. 
No banner waved on Cardross gate, 
On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, 
Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; 610 

All seemed at peace. — Now wot ye why 
The Chieftain with such anxious eye, 
Ere to the muster he repair, 
This western frontier scanned with care ? — 
In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, 615 

A fair though cruel pledge was left ; 
For Douglas, to his promise true. 
That morning from the isle withdrew, 
[88] 



THE GATHERING 

And in a deep sequestered dell 

Had sought a low and lonely cell. 620 

By many a bard in Celtic tongue 

Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung ; 

A softer name the Saxons gave, 

And called the grot the Goblin Cave. 

XXVI 

It was a wild and strange retreat, 625 

As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 

The dell, upon the mountain's crest. 

Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast ; 

Its trench had stayed full many a rock, 

Hurled by primeval earthquake shock 630 

From Benvenue's gray summit wild. 

And here, in random ruin piled. 

They frowned incumbent o'er the spot, 

And formed the rugged sylvan grot. 

The oak and birch with mingled shade 635 

At noontide there a twilight made. 

Unless when short and sudden shone 

Some straggling beam on cliff or stone. 

With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 

Gains on thy depth, Futurity. 640 

No murmur waked the solemn still. 

Save tinkling of a fountain rill ; 

But when the wind chafed with the lake, 

A sullen sound would upward break. 

With dashing hollow voice, that spoke 645 

The incessant war of wave and rock. 

[89] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Suspended cliffs with hideous sway 

Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray. 

From such a den the wolf had sprung, 

In such the wild-cat leaves her young ; 650 

Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 

Sought for a space their safety there. 

Gray Superstition's whisper dread 

Debarred the spot to vulgar tread ; 

For there, she said, did fays resort, 655 

And satyrs hold their sylvan court. 

By moonlight tread their mystic maze, 

And blast the rash beholder's gaze. 

XXVII 

Now eve, with western shadows long. 

Floated on Katrine bright and strong, 660 

When Roderick with a chosen few 

Repassed the heights of Benvenue. 

Above the Goblin Cave they go, 

Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo ; 

The prompt retainers speed before, 665 

To launch the shallop from the shore, 

For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way 

To view the passes of Achray, 

And place his clansmen in array. 

Yet lags the Chief in musing mind, 670 

Unwonted sight, his men behind. 

A single page, to bear his sword. 

Alone attended on his lord ; 

The rest their way through thickets break, 

[90] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And soon await him by the lake. 675 

It was a fair and gallant sight, 

To view them from the neighboring height, 

By the low-levelled sunbeam's light ! 

For strength and stature, from the clan 

Each warrior was a chosen man, 680 

As even afar might well be seen, 

By their proud step and martial mien. 

Their feathers dance, their tartans float, 

Their targets gleam, as by the boat 

A wild and warlike group they stand, 685 

That w^ell became such mountain-strand. 

XXVHI 

Their Chief with step reluctant still 

Was lingering on the craggy hill. 

Hard by where turned apart the road 

To Douglas's obscure abode. 690 

It was but with that dawning morn 

That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn 

To drown his love in war's wild roar. 

Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ; 

But he who stems a stream with sand, 695 

And fetters flame with flaxen band. 

Has yet a harder task to prove, ■ — 

By firm resolve to conquer love ! 

Eve finds the Chief, like restless. ghost. 

Still hovering near his treasure lost ; 700 

For though his haughty heart deny 

A parting meeting to his eye, 

[92] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

Still fondly strains his anxious ear 

The accents of her voice to hear, 

And inly did he curse the breeze 705 

That waked to sound the rustling trees. 

But hark ! what mingles in the strain ? 

It is the harp of Allan-bane, 

That wakes its measure slow and high. 

Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 710 

What melting voice attends the strings ? 

'T is Ellen, or an angel, sings. 



XXIX 
Hymn to the Virgin 

Ave Maria ! maiden mild ! 

Listen to a maiden's prayer ! 
Thou canst hear though from the wild, 715 

Thou canst save amid despair. 
Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 

Though banished, outcast, and reviled — 
Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ; 

Mother, hear a suppliant child ! 720 

Ave Maria ! 

Ave Maria ! undefiled ! 

The flinty couch we now must share 
Shall seem with down of eider piled, 

If thy protection hover there. 
The murky cavern's heavy air 725 

Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ; 

[93] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Then, Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer, 
Mother, Hst a suppHant child ! 

Ave Maria ! 

Ave Maria ! stainless styled ! 

Foul demons of the earth and air, 730 

From this their wonted haunt exiled. 

Shall flee before thy presence fair. 
We bow us to our lot of care. 

Beneath thy guidance reconciled : 
Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, 735 

And for a father hear a child ! 

Ave Maria ! 

XXX 

Died on the harp the closing hymn, — 

Unmoved in attitude and limb, 

As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord 

Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 740 

Until the page with humble sign 

Twice pointed to the sun's decline. 

Then while his plaid he round him cast, 

' It is the last time — 't is the last,' 

He muttered thrice, — 'the last time e'er 745 

That angel-voice shall Roderick hear ! ' 

It was a goading thought, — his stride 

Hied hastier down the mountain-side ; 

Sullen he flung him in the boat. 

An instant 'cross the lake it shot. 750 

They landed in that silvery bay. 

And eastward held their hasty way, 

[94] 



THIRD] THE GATHERING 

Till, with the latest beams of light, 

The band arrived on Lanrick height. 

Where mustered in the vale below 755 

Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 

XXXI 

A various scene the clansmen made : 

Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed ; 

But most, with mantles folded round. 

Were couched to rest upon the ground, 760 

Scarce to be known by curious eye 

From the deep heather where they lie. 

So well was matched the tartan screen 

With heath-bell dark and brackens green ; 

Unless where, here and there, a blade 765 

Or lance's point a glimmer made. 

Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. 

But when, advancing through the gloom. 

They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume. 

Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, 770 

Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 

Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 

Three times returned the martial yell ; 

It died upon Bochastle's plain. 

And Silence claimed her evening reign. 775 



[95] 




CANTO FOURTH 



THE PROPHECY 



^HE rose is fairest when 't is budding new, 

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; 
IL The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, 
And love is loveHest when embalmed in tears. 
O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 5 

I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, 

Emblem of hope and love through future years ! ' 
Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. 



II 

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, 
Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 
All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, 
His axe and bow beside him lay, 
For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood 
A wakeful sentinel he stood. 
Hark ! — on the rock a footstep rung. 
And instant to his arms he sprung. 

[97] 



IS 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

* Stand, or thou diest! — What, Mahse? — soon 
Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. 

By thy keen step and glance I know, ,20 

Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe/ — 
For while the Fiery Cross hied on, 
On distant scout had Malise gone. — 
'Where sleeps the Chief?' the henchman said. 

* Apart, in yonder misty glade ; 25 
To his lone couch I '11 be your guide.' — 

Then called a slumberer by his side, 

And stirred him with his slackened bow, — 

* Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! 

We seek the Chieftain ; on the track 30 

Keep eagle watch till I come back/ 

III 

Together up the pass they sped. 

' What of the foeman ? ' Norman said. — 

* Varying reports from near and far ; • 
This certain, — that a band of war 35 
Has for two days been ready boune. 

At prompt command to march from Doune ; 

King James the while, with princely powers. 

Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 

Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 40 

Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 

Inured to bide such bitter bout. 

The warrior's plaid may bear it out; 

But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 

A shelter for thy bonny bride }' — 45 

[98] 

I 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

' What ! know ye not that Roderick's care 

To the lone isle hath caused repair 

Each maid and matron of the clan, 

And every child and aged man 

Unfit for arms ; and given his charge, 50 

Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, 

Upon these lakes shall float at large. 

But all beside the islet moor, 

That such dear pledge may rest secure ? ' — 

IV 

' 'T is well advised, — the Chieftain^s plan 55 

Bespeaks the father of his clan. 

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 

Apart from all his followers true ? ' 

' It is because last evening-tide 

Brian an augury hath tried, 60 

Of that dread kind which must not be 

Unless in dread extremity. 

The Taghairm called ; by which, afar. 

Our sires foresaw the events of war. 

Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew.' — 65 

MALISE 

'Ah! well the gallant brute I knew! 

The choicest of the prey we had 

When swept our merry men Gallangad. 

His hide was snow, his horns were dark. 

His red eye glowed like fiery spark ; 70 

So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet. 

Sore did he cumber our retreat, 

[99] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And kept our stoutest kerns in awe, 

Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 

But steep and flinty was the road, 75 

And sharp the hurr}dng pikeman's goad. 

And when we came to Dennan's Row 

A child might scathless stroke his brow/ 

V 

NORMAN 

' That bull was slain ; his reeking hide 
They stretched the cataract beside, 80 

Whose waters their wild tumult toss 
Adown the black and craggy boss 
Of that huge cliff whose ample verge 
Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. 
Couched on a shelf beneath its brink, 85 

Close where the thundering torrents sink, 
Rocking beneath their headlong sway. 
And drizzled by the ceaseless spray. 
Midst groan of rock and roar of stream, 
The wizard waits prophetic dream. 90 

Nor distant rests the Chief ; — but hush ! 
See, gliding slow through mist and bush, 
The hermit gains yon rock, and stands 
To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 
Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost, 95 

That hovers o'er a slaughtered host ? 
Or raven on the blasted oak, 
That, watching while the deer is broke, ' 
His morsel claims with sullen croak ? ' 
[100] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

MALISE 

* Peace ! peace ! to other than to me loo 

Thy words were evil augury ; 

But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 

Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, 

Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell, 

Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell. 105 

The Chieftain joins him, see — and now 

Together they descend the brow.' 

VI 

And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord 

The Hermit Monk held solemn word : — 

' Roderick! it is a fearful strife, no 

For man endowed with mortal life. 

Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 

Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, 

Whose eye can stare in stony trance. 

Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, — 115 

'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled. 

The curtain of the future world. 

Yet, witness every quaking limb. 

My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, 

My soul with harrowing anguish torn, 120 

This for my Chieftain have I borne ! — 

The shapes that sought my fearful couch 

A human tongue may ne'er avouch ; 

No mortal man — save he, who, bred 

Between the living and the dead, 125 

Is gifted beyond nature's law — 

[lOl] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Had e'er survived to say he saw. 

At length the fateful answer came 

In characters of living flame ! 

Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, 130 

But borne and branded on my soul : — 

Which spills the foremost foeman's life, 

That party conquers in the strife/ 

VII 

' Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care ! 

Good is thine augury, and fair. 135 

Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood 

But first our broadswords tasted blood. 

A surer victim still I know, 

Self-offered to the auspicious blow : 

A spy has sought my land this morn, — 140 

No eve shall witness his return ! 

My followers guard each pass's mouth, 

To east, to westward, and to south ; 

Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide, 

Has charge to lead his steps aside, 145 

Till in deep path or dingle brown 

He light on those shall bring him down. — 

But see, who comes his news to show ! 

Malise ! what tidings of the foe ? * 

VIII 

* At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive 150 
Two Barons proud their banners wave. 
I saw the Moray's silver star, 
And marked the sable pale of Mar.' 
[102] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

' By Alpine's soul, high tidings those ! 

I love to hear of worthy foes. 155 

When move they on ? ' ' To-morrow's noon 

Will see them here for battle boune/ 

* Then shall it see a meeting stern ! 

But, for the place, — say, couldst thou learn 

Nought of the friendly clans of Earn? 160 

Strengthened by them, we well might bide 

The battle on Benledi's side. 

Thou couldst not ? — well ! Clan- Alpine's men 

Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen ; 

Within Loch Katrine's gorge we '11 fight, 165 

All in our maids' and matrons' sight, 

Each for his hearth and household fire, 

Father for child, and son for sire, 

Lover for maid beloved ! — But why — 

Is it the breeze affects mine eye ? 170 

Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear ! 

A messenger of doubt or fear ? 

No ! sooner may the Saxon lance 

Unfix Benledi from his stance, 

Than doubt or terror can pierce through 175 

The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu ! 

'T is stubborn as his trusty targe. 

Each to his post! — all know their charge.' 

The pibroch sounds, the bands advance. 

The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 180 

Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. — 

I turn me from the martial roar, 

And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. 

[ 103 ] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

IX 

Where is the Douglas ? — he is gone ; 

And Ellen sits on the gray stone 185 

Fast by the cave, and makes her moan, 

While vainly Allan's words of cheer 

Are poured on her unheeding ear. 

' He will return — dear lady, trust ! — 

With joy return ; — he will — he must. 190 

Well was it time to seek afar 

Some refuge from impending war, 

When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 

Are cowed by the approaching storm. * 

I saw their boats with many a light, 195 

Floating the livelong yesternight. 

Shifting like flashes darted forth 

By the red streamers of the north ; 

I marked at morn how close they ride, 

Thick moored by the lone islet's side, 200 

Like wild ducks couching in the fen 

When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 

Since this rude race dare not abide 

The peril on the mainland side, 

Shall not thy noble father's care 205 

Some safe retreat for thee prepare ? ' 

X 

ELLEN 

' No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind 
My wakeful terrors could not blind. 
[104] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

When in such tender tone, yet grave, 

Douglas a parting blessing gave, 210 

The tear that glistened in his eye 

Drowned not his purpose fixed and high. 

My soul, though feminine and weak. 

Can image his ; e'en as the lake. 

Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, 215 

Reflects the invulnerable rock. 

He hears report of battle rife. 

He deems himself the cause of strife. 

I saw him redden when the theme 

Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream 220 

Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound. 

Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. 

Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught ? 

O no ! 't was apprehensive thought 

For the kind youth, — for Roderick too — 225 

Let me be just — that friend so true ; 

In danger both, and in our cause ! 

Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 

Why else that solemn warning given, 

''If not on earth, we meet in heaven ! " 230 

Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, 

If eve return him not again. 

Am I to hie and make me known ? 

Alas, he goes to Scotland's throne, 

Buys his friends' safety with his own ; 235 

He goes to do — what I had done. 

Had Douglas' daughter been his son ! ' 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [ganto 

XI 

' Nay, lovely Ellen ! — dearest, nay ! 

If aught should his return delay, 

He only named yon holy fane " 240 

As fitting place to meet again. 

Be sure he 's safe ; and for the Graeme, — 

Heaven's blessing on his gallant nam.e ! — 

I\Iy visioned sight may yet prove true. 

Nor bode of ill to him or you. 245 

When did my gifted dream beguile? 

Think of the stranger at the isle, 

And think upon the harpings slow 

That presaged this approaching woe ! 

Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; 250 

Believe it when it augurs cheer. 

Would we had left this dismal spot ! 

Ill luck still haunts a fair}' grot. 

Of such a wondrous tale I know — 

Dear lady, change that look of woe, 255 

My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.' 

ELLEN 

' Well, be it as thou wilt ; I hear, 

But cannot stop the bursting tear.' 

The Minstrel tried his simple art. 

But distant far was Ellen's heart. 260 



[106] 



FOURTH] ^ THE PROPHECY 

XII 
Ballad — Alice Brand 

Merry it is in the good greenwood, 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 
When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry. 

And the hunter's horn is ringing. 

' O AHce Brand, my native land 265 

Is lost for love of you ; 
And we must hold by wood and wold. 

As outlaws wont to do. 

* O Alice, 't was all for thy locks so bright. 

And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 270 

That on the night, of our luckless flight 
Thy brother bold I slew. 

* Now must I teach to hew the beech 

The hand that held the glaive. 
For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 275 

And stakes to fence our cave. 

* And for vest of pall, thy fingers small. 

That wont on harp to stray, r^ 

A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer, 

To keep the cold away.' : ^ 280 

VO Richard ! if my brother died, : -.1 
'Twas but a fatal chance; ^- ^ \ : * : 1 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

For darkling was the battle tried, 
And fortune sped the lance. 

' If pall and vair no more I wear, 285 

Nor thou the crimson sheen, 
As warm, we '11 say, is the russet gray. 

As gay the forest-green. 

'And, Richard, if our lot be hard, 

And lost thy native land, 290 

Still Alice has her own Richard, 

And he his Alice Brand/ 

XIII 

Ballad Contiimed 

'T is merry, 't is merr}-, in good greenwood ; 

So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; 
On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 295 

Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 

Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 

Who woned within the hill, — 
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church, 

His voice was ghostly shrill. 300 

' Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 

Our moonlight circle's screen ? 
Or who comes here to chase the deer, 

Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? 
Or who may dare on wold to wear 305 

The fairies* fatal green t 

[108] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

' Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, 

For thou wert christened man ; 
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 

For muttered word or ban, 310 

' Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, 

The curse of the sleepless eye ; 
Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 

Nor yet find leave to die/ 

XIV 
Ballad Conti7itied 

'T is merry, 't is merr)', in good greenwood, 315 

Though the birds have stilled their singing ; 

The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
And Richard is fagots bringing. 

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf. 

Before Lord Richard stands, 320 

And, as he crossed and blessed himself, 
' I fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf, 

* That is made with bloody hands/ 

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 

That woman void of fear,' — 325 

'And if there's blood upon his hand, 
'T is but the blood of deer.' 

' Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood ! 
It cleaves unto his hand, 

[109] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

The stain of thine own kindly blood, 330 

The blood of Ethert, Brand.' 

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, 

And made the holy sign, — 
'And if there's blood on Richard's hand, 

A spotless hand is mine. 335 

'And I conjure thee, demon elf, 

By Him whom demons fear. 
To show us whence thou art thyself, 

And what thine errand here .? ' 



XV 

Ballad Coiitimced 

' 'T is merry, 't is merry, in Fairy-land, 340 

When fairy birds are singing, 
When the court doth ride by their monarch's side. 

With bit and bridle ringing : 

'And gayly shines the Fairy-land — 

But all is glistening show, 345 

Like the idle gleam that December's beam 

Can dart on ice and snow. 

'And fading, like that varied gleam, 

Is our inconstant shape. 
Who now like knight and lady seem, 350 

And now like dwarf and ape. 
[no] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

' It was between the night and day, 

When the Fairy King has power, 
That I sunk down in a sinful fray, 
And 'twixt Hfe and death was snatched away 355 

To the joyless Elfin bower. 

' But wist I of a woman bold, 

Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
I might regain my mortal mould. 

As fair a form as thine/ 360 

She crossed him once — she crossed him twice — 

That lady was so brave ; 
The fouler grew his goblin hue, 

The darker grew the cave. 

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold ; 365 

He rose beneath her hand 
The fairest knight on Scottish mould, 

Her brother, Ethert Brand ! 

Merry it is in good greenwood. 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 370 

But merrier were they in Dunfermline gfay, 
^1^^ When all the bells were ringing.^/^ 

^ XVI 

Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, 

A stranger climbed the steepy glade ; 

His martial step, his stately mien, 375 

His hunting-suit of Lincoln green, 

[III] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 

'T is Snowdoun's Knight, 't is James Fitz-James. 

Ellen beheld as in a dream, 

Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream : 380 

' O stranger ! in such hour of fear 

What evil hap has brought thee here ? ' 

'An evil hap how can it be 

That bids me look again on thee ? 

By promise bound, my former guide 385 

Met me betimes this morning-tide, 

And marshalled over bank and bourne 

The happy path of my return.' 

' The happy path !. — what ! said he naught 

Of war, of battle to be fought, 390 

Of guarded pass ? ' ' No, by my faith ! 

Nor saw I aught could augur scathe/ 

' O haste thee, Allan, to the kern : 

Yonder his tartans I discern ; 

Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 395 

That he will guide the stranger sure ! — 

What prompted thee, unhappy man ? 

The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 

Had not been bribed, by love or fear, 

Unknown to him to guide thee here/. 400 

XVII 

* Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, 

Since it is worthy care from thee ; 

Yet life I hold but idle breath 

When love or honor 's weighed with death. 

[112] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

Then let me profit by my chance, 405 

And speak my purpose bold at once. 

I come to bear thee from a wild 

Where ne'er before such blossom smiled, 

By this soft hand to lead thee far 

From frantic scenes of feud and war. 410 

Near Bochastle my horses wait ; 

They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 

I '11 place thee in a lovely bower, 

I '11 guard thee like a tender flower — ' 

'O hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art, 415 

To say I do not read thy heart ; 

Too much, before, my selfish ear 

Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 

That fatal bait hath lured thee back. 

In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track ; 420 

And how, O how, can I atone 

The wreck my vanity brought on ! — 

One way remains — I '11 tell him all — 

Yes ! struggling bosom, forth it shall ! 

Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, 425 

Buy thine own pardon with thy shame ! 

But first — my father is a man 

Outlawed and exiled, under ban ; 

The price of blood is on his head. 

With me 'twere infamy to wed. 430 

Still wouldst thou speak ? — then hear the truth ! 

Fitz-James, there is a noble youth — 

If yet he is ! — exposed for me 

And mine to dread extremity — 

["3] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Thou hast the secret of my heart; 435 

Forgive, be generous, and depart ! V 

XVIII : 

Fitz-James knew every wily train 

A lady's fickle heart to gain, 

But here he knew and felt them vain. 

There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, ■ 440 

To give her steadfast speech the lie ; 

In maiden confidence she stood. 

Though mantled in her cheek the blood. 

And told her love with such a sigh 

Of deep and hopeless agony, 445 

As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom 

And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 

Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye. 

But not with hope fled sympathy. 

He proffered to attend her side, 450 

As brother would a sister guide. 

' O little know'st thou Roderick's heart ! 

Safer for both we go apart. 

O haste thee, and from Allan learn 

If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.' 455 

With hand upon his forehead laid. 

The conflict of his mind to shade, 

A parting step or two he made ; 

Then, as some thought had crossed his brain. 

He paused, and turned, and came again. 460 



["4] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

XIX 

' Hear, lady, yet a parting word ! — 

It chanced in fight that my poor sword 

Preserved the Hfe of Scotland's lord. 

This ring the grateful Monarch gave, 

And bade, when I had boon to crave, 465 

To bring it back, and boldly claim 

The recompense that I would name. 

Ellen, I am no courtly lord, 

But one who lives by lance and sword, 

Whose castle is his helm and shield, 470 

His lordship the embattled field. 

What from a prince can I demand. 

Who neither reck of state nor land ? 

Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; 

Each guard and usher knows the sign. 475 

Seek thou the King without delay ; 

This signet shall secure thy way : 

And claim thy suit, whatever it be. 

As ransom of his pledge to me.' 

He placed the golden circlet on, 480 

Paused — kissed her hand — and then was gone. 

The aged Minstrel stood aghast. 

So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 

He joined his guide, and wending down 

The ridges of the mountain brown, 485 

Across the stream they took their way 

That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. 



[116] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

XX 

All in the Trosachs' glen was still, 

Noontide was sleeping on the hill : 

Sudden his guide whooped loud and high — 490 

' Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ? ' — 

He stammered forth, ' I shout to scare 

Yon raven from his dainty fare/ 

He looked — he knew the raven's prey, 

His own brave steed : ' Ah ! gallant gray ! 495 

For thee — for me, perchance — 't were well 

We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 

Murdoch, move first — but silently ; 

Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die ! ' 

Jealous and sullen on they fared, 500 

Each silent, each upon his guard. 

XXI 

Now wound the path its dizzy ledge 

Around a precipice's edge. 

When lo ! a wasted female form, 

Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 505 

In tattered weeds and wild array. 

Stood on a cliff beside the way. 

And glancing round her restless eye, 

Upon the wood, the rock, the sky. 

Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy. 510 

Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom ; 

With gesture wild she waved a plume 

Of feathers, which the eagles fling 

To crag and cliff from dusky wing ; 

[117] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Such spoils her desperate step had sought, 515 

Where scarce was footing for the goat. 

The tartan plaid she first descried, 

And shrieked till all the rocks replied ; 

As loud she laughed when near they drew, 

For then the Lowland garb she knew ; 520 

And then her hands she wildly wrung, 

And then she wept, and then she sung — 

She sung ! — the voice, in better time. 

Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; 

And now, though strained and roughened, still 525 

Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 

XXII 
Song 

They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, 

They say my brain is warped and wrung — 

I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 530 

But were I now where Allan glides. 

Or heard my native Devan's tides. 

So sweetly would I rest, and pray 

That Heaven would close my wintry day ! ~ 

'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, 535 

They made me to the church repair ; 

It was my bridal morn, they said. 

And my true love would meet me there. 

But woe betide the cruel guile 

That drowned in blood the .morning smile If 540 

["8] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

And woe betide the fairy dream ! 
I only waked to sob and scream. 

XXIII 

* Who is this maid ? what means her lay ? 
She hovers o'er the hollow way, 
And flutters wide her mantle gray, 545 

As the lone heron spreads his wing, 
By twilight, o'er a haunted spring/ 
*'Tis Blanche of Devan,' Murdoch said, 
' A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 
Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, 550 

When Roderick forayed Devan-side. 
The gay bridegroom resistance made, 
And felt our Chief's unconquered blade. 
I marvel she is now at large. 

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. — 555 
Hence, brain-sick fool ! ' — He raised his bow : — 
' Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, 
I '11 pitch thee from the cliff as far 
As ever peasant pitched a bar ! ' 
' Thanks, champion, thanks ! ' the Maniac cried, 560 
And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. 
' See the gray pennons I prepare. 
To seek my true love through the air ! 
I will not lend that savage groom. 
To break his fall, one downy plume ! 565 

No ! — deep amid disjointed stones. 
The wolves shall batten on his bones, 
. And then shall his detested plaid, 
[119] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

By bush and brier in mid-air stayed, 

Wave forth a banner fair and free, 570 

Meet signal for their revelry,' 

XXIV 

' Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still ! ' 

' O ! thou look'st kindly, and I will. 

Mine eye has dried and wasted been, 

But still it loves the Lincoln green ; 575 

And, though mine ear is all unstrung. 

Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 

' For O, my sweet William was forester true. 
He stole poor Blanche's heart away ! 

His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 580 

And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay ! 

' It was not that I meant to tell . . . 

But thou art wise and guessest well.' 

Then, in a low and broken tone. 

And hurried note, the song went on. 585 

Still on the Clansman fearfully 

She fixed her apprehensive eye. 

Then turned it on the Knight, and then 

Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 

XXV 

' The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, — 590 

Ever sing merrily, merrily ; 
The bows they bend, and the knives they whet. 

Hunters live so cheerily. 

[120] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

' It was a stag, a stag of ten, 

Bearing its branches sturdily ; 595 

He came stately down the glen, — 

Ever sing hardily, hardily. 

* It was there he met with a wounded doe, 

She was bleeding deathfully ; 
She warned him of the toils below, 600 

O, so faithfully, faithfully ! 

' He had an eye, and he could heed, — 

Ever sing warily, warily ; 
He had a foot, and he could speed, — 

Hunters watch so narrowly/ 605 

XXVI 

Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed. 

When Ellen's hints and fears were lost; 

But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 

And Blanche's song conviction brought. 

Not like a stag that spies the snare, 610 

But lion of the hunt aware. 

He waved at once his blade on high, 

' Disclose thy treachery, or die ! ' 

Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, 

But in his race his bow he drew. 615 

The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest. 

And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast. — 

Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed. 

For ne'er had Alpine's son such need ; 

B [121] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 620 

The fierce avenger is behind ! 

Fate judges of the rapid strife — 

The forfeit death — the prize is Hfe ; 

Thy kindred ambush hes before, 

Close couched upon the heathery moor; 625 

Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be — 

Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see. 

The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! — 

Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, 

As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; 630 

With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain 

Ere he can win his blade again. 

Bent o'er the fallen with falcon eye. 

He grimly smiled to see him die, 

Then slower wended back his way, 635 

Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 

XXVII 

She sat beneath the birchen tree, 
Her elbow resting on her knee; 
She had withdrawn the fatal shaft. 
And gazed on it, and feebly laughed ; 640 

Her wreath of broom and feathers gray. 
Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 
The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried, — 
* Stranger, it is in vain ! ' she cried. 
' This hour of death has given me more 645 

Of reason's power than years before ; 
[122] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

For, as these ebbing veins decay, 

My frenzied visions fade away. 

A helpless injured wretch I die, 

And something tells me in thine eye 650 

That thou wert my avenger born. 

Seest thou this tress ? — O, still I Ve worn 

This little tress of yellow hair. 

Through danger, frenzy, and despair ! 

It once was bright and clear as thine, 655 

But blood and tears have dimmed its shine. 

I will not tell thee when 't was shred. 

Nor from what guiltless victim's head, — 

My brain would turn ! — but it shall wave 

Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 660 

Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain. 

And thou wilt bring it me again. 

I waver still. — O God ! more bright 

Let reason beam her parting light ! — 

O, by thy knighthood's honored sign, 665 

And for thy life preserved by mine, 

When thou shalt see a darksome man. 

Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, 

With tartans broad and shadowy plume. 

And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 670 

Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, 

And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong ! — 

They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . 

Avoid the path . . . O God ! . . . farewell ! ' 



[123] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

XXVIII 

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James ; 675 

Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims ; 
And now, with mingled grief and ire, 
He saw the murdered maid expire. 
' God, in my need, be my relief. 
As I wreak this on yonder Chief ! ' 680 

A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 
He blended with her bridegroom's hair ; 
The mingled braid in blood he dyed. 
And placed it on his bonnet-side : 
' By Him whose word is truth, I swear, 685 

No other favor will I wear. 
Till this sad token I imbrue 
In the best blood of Roderick Dhu ! — 
But hark ! what means yon faint halloo ? 
The chase is up, — but they shall know, 690 

The stag at bay 's a dangerous foe/ 
Barred from the known but guarded way, 
Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, 
And oft must change his desperate track. 
By stream and precipice turned back. 695 

Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length. 
From lack of food and loss of strength. 
He couched him in a thicket hoar, 
And thought his toils and perils o'er : — 
' Of all my rash adventures past, 700 

This frantic feat must prove the last ! 
Who e'er so mad but might have guessed 
That all this Highland hornet's nest 
[124] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

Would muster up in swarms so soon 

As e'er they heard of bands at Doune? — 705 

Like bloodhounds now they search me out, — 

Hark, to the whistle and the shout ! — 

If farther through the wilds I go, 

I only fall upon the foe : 

I '11 couch me here till evening gray, 710 

Then darkling try my dangerous way/ 



XXIX 

The shades of eve come slowly down, 

The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, 

The owl awakens from her dell, 

The fox is heard upon the fell ; 715 

Enough remains of glimmering light 

To guide the wanderer's steps aright, 

Yet not enough from far to show 

His figure to the watchful foe. 

With cautious step and ear awake, 720 

He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; 

And not the summer solstice there 

Tempered the midnight mountain air. 

But every breeze that swept the wold 

Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. 725 

In dread, in danger, and alone, 

Famished and chilled, through ways unknown, 

Tangled and steep, he journeyed on ; 

Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, 

A watch-fire close before him burned. 730 

[125] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

XXX 

Beside its embers red and clear, 

Basked in his plaid a mountaineer ; 

And up he sprung with sword in hand, — 

' Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand ! ' 

'A stranger.' 'What dost thou require?' 735 

' Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 

My life's beset, my path is lost. 

The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.' 

' Art thou a friend to Roderick ? ' ' No.' 

' Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe } ' 740 

' I dare ! to him and all the band 

He brings to aid his murderous hand.' 

' Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game 

The privilege of chase may claim. 

Though space and law the stag we lend, 745 

Ere hound we slip or bow we bend. 

Who ever recked, where, how, or when. 

The prowling fox was trapped or slain .^ 

Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie. 

Who say thou cam'st a secret spy ! ' — 750 

' They do, by heaven ! — come Roderick Dhu, 

And of his clan the boldest two. 

And let me but till morning rest, 

I write the falsehood on their crest.' 

' If by the blaze I mark aright, 755 

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.' 

' Then by these tokens mayst thou know 

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' 

[126] 



FOURTH] THE PROPHECY 

' Enough, enough ; sit down and share 

A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.' 760 

XXXI 

He gave him of his Highland cheer, 

The hardened flesh of mountain deer; 

Dry fuel on the fire he laid, 

And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 

He tended him like welcome guest, 765 

Then thus his further speech addressed : — 

' Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 

A clansman born, a kinsman true; 

Each word against his honor spoke 

Demands of me avenging stroke ; 770 

Yet more, — upon thy fate, 't is said, 

A mighty augury is laid. 

It rests with me to wind my horn, — 

Thou art with numbers overborne ; 

It rests with me, here, brand to brand, 775 

Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : 

But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause. 

Will I depart from honor's laws ; 

To assail a wearied man were shame, 

And stranger is a holy name ; 780 

Guidance and rest, and food and fire. 

In vain he never must require. 

Then rest thee here till dawn of day ; 

Myself will guide thee on the way. 

O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, 785 

Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

As far as Coilantogle's ford ; 

From thence thy warrant is thy sword/ 

' I take thy courtesy, by heaven, 

As freely as 't is nobly given ! ' 790 

' Well, rest thee ; for the bittern's cry 

Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.' 

With that he shook the gathered heath, 

And spread his plaid upon the wreath ; 

And the brave foemen, side by side, 795 

Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, 

And slept until the dawning beam 

vPurpled the mountain and the stream. 



[128 J 




CANTO FIFTH 



THE COMBAT 



^^AIR as the earliest beam of eastern light, 

H When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied, 

J_L It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, 
And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, 
And lights the fearful path on mountain-side, — 

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, 

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star. 

Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the 
brow of War. 



II 

That early beam, so fair and sheen, , lo 

Was twinkling through the hazel screen. 
When, rousing at its ghmmer red, 
The warriors left their lowly bed, 
Looked out upon the dappled sky. 
Muttered their soldier matins by, 15 

[129] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And then awaked their fire, to steal, 
As short and rude, their soldier meal. 
That o'er, the, Gael around him threw \ 

His graceful plaid of varied hue, 
And, true to promise, led the way, 20 

-By thicket green and mountain gray. 
A wildering path ! — they winded now 
Along the precipice's brow. 
Commanding the rich scenes beneath. 
The windings of the Forth and Teith, 25 

And all the vales between that lie. 
Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; 
Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 
Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 
'T was oft so steep, the foot was fain 30 

Assistance from the hand to gain ; 
So tangled oft that, bursting through. 
Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, — 
That diamond dew, so pure and clear, 
It rivals all but Beauty's tear ! 35 

III 

At length they came where, stern and steep, 

The hill sinks down upon the deep. 

Here Vennachar in silver flows, 

There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose ; 

Ever the hollow path twined on, 40 

Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ; 

A hundred men might hold the post 

With hardihood against a host 

1 130 J 



THE COMBAT 

The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 

Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 45 

With shingles bare, and cliffs between. 

And patches bright of bracken green. 

And heather black, that waved so high. 

It held the copse in rivalry. 

But where the lake slept deep and still, 50 

Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ; 

And oft both path and hill were torn. 

Where wintry torrent down had borne. 

And heaped upon the cumbered land 

Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 55 

So toilsome was the road to trace. 

The guide, abating of his pace. 

Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 

And asked Fitz-James by what strange cause 

He sought these wilds, traversed by few, 60 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 

IV 

' Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, 

Hangs in my belt and by my side ; 

Yet, sooth to tell,' the Saxon said, 

' I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 65 

When here, but three days since, I came, 

Bewildered in pursuit of game. 

All seemed as peaceful and as. still 

As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; 

Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 70 

Nor soon expected back from war. 

[131] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide, 
Though deep perchance the villain lied.' 
' Yet why a second venture try ? ' 
* A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — 75 

Moves our free course by such fixed cause 
•As gives the poor mechanic laws ? 
Enough, I sought to drive away 
The lazy hours of peaceful day ; 
Slight cause will then suffice to guide 80 

A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 
A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed. 
The merry glance of mountain maid ; 
Or, if a path be dangerous known. 
The danger's self is lure alone.' 85 



' Thy secret keep, I urge thee not ; — 

Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, 

Say, heard ye naught of Lowland war. 

Against Clan- Alpine, raised by ]\Iar ? ' 

' No, by my word ; — of bands prepared 90 

To guard King James's sports I heard ; 

Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear 

This muster of the mountaineer, 

Their pennons will abroad be flung. 

Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.' 95 

' Free be they flung ! for we w^ere loath 

Their silken folds should feast the moth. 

Free be thev fluno^ ! — as free shall wave 

Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. 

[132] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

But, stranger, peaceful since you came, loo 

Bewildered in the mountain-game. 

Whence the bold boast by which you show 

Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe ? ' 

' Warrior, but -yester-morn I knew 

Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 105 

Save as an outlawed desperate man, 

The chief of a rebellious clan. 

Who, in the Regent's court and sight. 

With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight ; 

Yet this alone might from his part no 

Sever each true and loyal heart.' 

VI 

Wrathful at such arraignment foul, 

Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl, 

A space he paused, then sternly said, 

'And heardst thou why he drew his blade ? 115 

Heardst thou that shameful word and blow 

Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe ? 

What recked the Chieftain if he stood 

On Highland heath or Holy- Rood ? 

He rights such wrong where it is given, 120 

If it were in the court of heaven.' 

* Still was it outrage ; — yet, 't is true. 

Not then claimed sovereignty his due ; 

While Albany with feeble hand 

Held borrowed truncheon of command, 125 

The young King, mewed in Stirling tower, 

Was stranger to respect and power. 

[133] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

But then, thy Chieftain's robber Hfe ! — 
Winning mean prey by causeless strife, 
Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 130 

His herds and harvest reared in vain, — 
Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 
The spoils from such foul foray borne/ 

VII 

The Gael beheld him grim the while, 

And answered with disdainful smile : 135 

' Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 

I marked thee send delighted eye 

Far to the south and east, where lay, 

Extended in succession gay, 

Deep waving fields and pastures green, 140 

With gentle slopes and groves between : — 

These fertile plains, that softened vale. 

Were once the birthright of the Gael ; 

The stranger came with iron hand. 

And from our fathers reft the land. 145 

Where dwell we now ? See, rudely swell 

Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 

Ask we this savage hill we tread 

For fattened steer or household bread. 

Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 150 

And well the mountain might reply, — 

'' To you, as to your sires of yore. 

Belong the target and claymore ! 

I give you shelter in my breast. 

Your own good blades must win the rest." 155 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

Pent in this fortress of the North, 

Think'st thou we will not sally forth, 

To spoil the spoiler as we may, 

And from the robber rend the prey ? 

Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain i6o 

The Saxon rears one shock of grain. 

While of ten thousand herds there strays 

But one along yon river's maze, — 

The Gael, of plain and river heir, 

Shall with strong hand redeem his share. 165 

Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold 

That plundering Lowland field and fold 

Is aught but retribution true ? 

Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.' 

VIII 

Answered Fitz- James : ' And, if I sought, 170 

Think'st thou no other could be brought ? 

What deem ye of my path waylaid ? 

My life given o'er to ambuscade ? ' 

' As of a meed to rashness due : 

Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 175 

I seek my hound or falcon strayed, 

I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 

Free hadst thou been to come and go ; 

But secret path marks secret foe. 

Nor yet for this, even as a spy, 180 

Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die, 

Save to fulfil an augury.' 

' Well, let it pass ; nor will I now 

[135] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Fresh cause of enmity avow, 

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 185 

Enough, I am by promise tied 

To match me with this man of pride : 

Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 

In peace ; but when I come again, 

I come with banner, brand, and bow, 190 

As leader seeks his mortal foe. 

For love-lorn swain in lady's bower 

Ne'er panted for the appointed hour. 

As I, until before me stand 

This rebel Chieftain and his band ! ' 195 

1 IX 

' Have then thy wish ! ' — He whistled shrill, 

And he was answered from the hill ; 

Wild as the scream of the curlew. 

From crag to crag the signal flew. 

Instant, through copse and heath, arose 200 

Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; 

On right, on left, above, below. 

Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 

From shingles gray their lances start. 

The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 205 

The rushes and the willow-wand 

Are bristling into axe and brand, 

And every tuft of broom gives life 

To plaided warrior armed for strife. 

That whistle garrisoned the glen 210 

At once with full five hundred men, 

[^36] 



FIFTH] THE ^C 0MB AT 

As if the yawning hill to heaven 

A subterranean host had given. 

Watching their leader's beck and will, 

All silent there they stood and still. 215 

Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 

As if an infant's touch could urge 

Their headlong passage down the verge. 

With step and weapon forward flung, 220 

Upon the mountain-side they hung. 

The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 

Along Benledi's living side, 

Then fixed his eye and sable brow 

Full on Fitz- James : 'How say st thou now.? 225 

These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true ; 

And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! ' 

X 

Fitz-James was brave : — though to his heart 

The life-blood thrilled with sudden start. 

He manned himself with dauntless air, 230 

Returned the Chief his haughty stare. 

His back against a rock he bore. 

And firmly placed his foot before : — 

' Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as L' 235 

Sir Roderick marked, — and in his eyes 

Respect was mingled with surprise. 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foeman worthy of their steel. 

[137] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Short space he stood — then waved his hand : 240 

Down sunk the disappearing band ; 

Each warrior vanished where he stood, 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; 

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow. 

In osiers pale and copses low ; 245 

It seemed as if their mother Earth 

Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 

The wind's last breath had tossed in air 

Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 

The next but swept a lone hill-side, 250 

Where heath and fern were waving wide : 

The sun's last glance was glinted back 

From spear and glaive, from targe and jack ; 

The next, all unreflected, shone 

On bracken green and cold gray stone. - 255 

XI 

Fitz-James looked round, — yet scarce believed 

The witness that his sight received ; 

Such apparition well might seem 

Delusion of a dreadful dream. 

Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 260 

And to his look the Chief replied : 

' Fear naught — nay, that I need not say — 

But — doubt not aught from mine array. 

Thou art my guest ; — I pledged my word 

As far as Coilantogle ford : 265 

Nor would I call a clansman's brand 

For aid against one valiant hand, 

[138] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT , 

Though on our strife lay every vale 

Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 

So move we on ; — I only meant 270 

To show the reed on which you leant, 

Deeming this path you might pursue 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu/ 

They moved ; — I said Fitz-James was brave 

As ever knight that belted glaive, 275 

Yet dare not say that now his blood 

Kept on its wont and tempered flood. 

As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 

That seeming lonesome pathway through, 

Which yet by fearful proof was rife 280 

With lances, that, to take his life. 

Waited but signal from a guide, 

So late dishonored and defied. 

Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 

The vanished guardians of the ground, 285 

And still from copse and heather deep 

Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 

And in the plover's shrilly strain 

The signal whistle heard again. 

Nor breathed he free till far behind 290 

The pass was left ; for then they wind 

Along a wide and level green. 

Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 

Nor rush nor bush of broom was near. 

To hide a bonnet or a spear. 295 



[139] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

XII 

The Chief in silence strode before, 

And reached that torrent's sounding shore, 

Which, daughter of three mighty lakes. 

From Vennachar in silver breaks. 

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 300 

On Bochastle the mouldering lines. 

Where Rome, the Empress of the world, 

Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 

And here his course the Chieftain stayed. 

Threw down his target and his plaid, 305 

And to the Lowland warrior said : 

' Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, 

Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. 

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man. 

This head of a rebellious clan, 310 

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward. 

Far past Clan-Alpine's^outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 

A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 

See, here all vantageless I stand, 315 

Armed like thyself with single brand ; 

For this is Coilantogle ford. 

And thou must keep thee with thy sword, 

XIII 

The Saxon paused : ' I ne'er delayed. 

When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 320 

Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death ; 

Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 

[140] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

And my deep debt for life preserved, 

A better meed have well deserved : 

Can naught but blood our feud atone ? 325 

Are there no means ? ' — ' No, stranger, none ! 

And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — 

The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; 

For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred 

Between the living and the dead : 330 

''Who spills the foremost foeman's life, 

His party conquers in the strife.'* ' 

' Then, by my word,' the Saxon said, 

' The riddle is already read. 

Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 335 

There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. 

Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy; 

Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 

To James at Stirling let us go. 

When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 340 

Or if the King shall not agree 

To grant thee grace and favor free, 

I plight mine honor, oath, and word 

That, to thy native strengths restored. 

With each advantage shalt thou stand 345 

That aids thee now to guard thy land.' 

XIV 

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye : 

' Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 

Because a wretched kern ye slew. 

Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? 350 

[141] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! 

Thou add'st but fuel to my hate ; — 

My clansman's blood demands revenge. 

Not yet prepared ?.v>— By heaven, I change 

My thought, and hold thy valor light 355 

As that of some vain carpet knight. 

Who ill deserved my courteous care, 

And whose best boast is but to wear 

A braid of his fair lady's hair/ 

' I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! 360 

It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 

For I have sworn this braid to stain 

In the best blood that warms thy vein. 

Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth, begone ! — 

Yet think not that by thee alone, 365 

Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; 

Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, 

Start at my whistle clansmen stern. 

Of this small horn one feeble blast 

Would fearful odds against thee cast. 370 

But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — 

We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.' 

Then each at once his falchion drew, 

Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 

Each looks to sun and stream and plain 375 

As what they ne'er might see again ; 

Then foot and point and eye opposed. 

In dubious strife they darkly closed. 



[142] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

111 fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 

That on the field his targe he threw, 380 

Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 

Had death so often dashed aside ; 

For, trained abroad his arms to wield, 

Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 

He practised every pass and ward, 385 

To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 

While less expert, though stronger far. 

The Gael maintained unequal war. 

Three times in closing strife they stood. 

And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; 390 

No stinted draught, no scanty tide, 

The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 

Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain. 

And showered his blows like wintry rain ; 

And, as firm rock or castle-roof 395 

Against the winter shower is proof, 

The foe, invulnerable still. 

Foiled his wild rage by steady skill ; 

Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 

Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 400 

And backward borne upon the lea. 

Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 

XVI 

' Now yield thee, or by Him who made ^ 
The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! ' 

[143] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

' Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 405 

Let recreant yield, who fears to die/ 

Like adder darting from his coil, 

Like wolf that dashes through the toil, 

Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 

Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; 410 

Received, but recked not of a wound, 

And locked his arms his foeman round. — 

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 

No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! 

That desperate grasp thy frame might feel 415 

Through bars of brass and triple steel ! 

They tug, they strain ! down, down they go. 

The Gael above, Fitz -James below. 

The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed. 

His knee was planted on his breast ; 420 

His clotted locks he backward threw, 

Across his brow his hand he drew, 

From blood and mist to clear his sight, 

Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright ! 

But hate and fury ill supplied 425 

The stream of life's exhausted tide, 

And all too late the advantage came. 

To turn the odds of deadly game : 

For, while the dagger gleamed on high. 

Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. 430 

Down came the blow ! but in the heath 

The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 

The struggling foe may now unclasp 

The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; 

[144] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Unwounded from the dreadful close, 435 

But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 

XVII 

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, 

Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife ; 

Next on his foe his look he cast. 

Whose every gasp appeared his last ; 440 

In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, — 

' Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid ; 

Yet with thy foe must die, or live. 

The praise that faith and valor give/ 

With that he blew a bugle note, 445 

Undid the collar from his throat, 

Unbonneted, and by the wave 

Sat down his brow and hands to lave. 

Then faint afar are heard the feet 

Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 450 

The sounds increase, and now are seen 

Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ; 

Two who bear lance, and two who lead 

By loosened rein a saddled steed; 

Each onward held his headlong course, 455 

And by Fitz-James reined up his horse, — 

With wonder viewed the bloody spot, — 

' Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. — 

You, Herbert and Luffness, alight. 

And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; 460 

Let the gray palfrey bear his weight. 

We destined for a fairer freight, 

[U6] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

And bring him on to Stirling straight; 

I will before at better speed, 

To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 465 

The sun rides high : — I must be boune 

To see the archer-game at noon ; 

But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 

DeVaux and Herries, follow me. 

XVIII 

' Stand, Bayard, stand ! ' — the steed obeyed, 470 

With arching neck and bended head, 

And glancing eye and quivering ear, 

As if he loved his lord to hear. 

No foot Fitz-James in stirrup stayed, 

No grasp upon the saddle laid, 475 

But wreathed his left hand in the mane. 

And lightly bounded from the plain, 

Turned on the horse his armed heel. 

And stirred his courage with the steel. 

Bounded the fiery steed in air, 480 

The rider sat erect and fair. 

Then like a bolt from steel crossbow 

Forth launched, along the plain they go. 

They dashed that rapid torrent through, 

And up Carhonie's hill they flew ; 485 

Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, 

His merrymen followed as they might. 

Along thy banks, swift Teith, they ride, 

And in the race they mock thy tide ; 

Torry and Lendrick now are past, 490 

[147] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; 
They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, 
They sink in distant woodland soon ; 
Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, 
They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; 495 

They mark just glance and disappear 
The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; 
They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, 
Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, 
And on the opposing shore take ground, 500 

With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 
Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig- Forth !. 
And soon the bulwark of the North, 
Gray Stirling, with her towers and town, 
NUpon their fleet career looked downV^ 505 

XIX 

As up the flinty path they strained, 

Sudden his steed the leader reined ; 

A signal to his squire he flung. 

Who instant to his stirrup sprung : — 

' Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray, 510 

Who townward holds the rocky way. 

Of stature tall and poor array ? 

Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride 

With which he scales the mountain-side ? 

Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom ? ' 515 

' No, by my word ; — a burly groom 

He seems, who in the field or chase 

A baron's train would nobly grace — ' 

[148] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

' Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply. 

And jealousy, no sharper eye ? 520 

Afar, ere to the hill he drew. 

That stately form and step I knew ; 

Like form in Scotland is not seen, 

Treads not such step on Scottish green. 

'T is James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! 525 

The uncle of the banished Earl. 

Away, away, to court, to show 

The near approach of dreaded. foe : 

The King must stand upon his guard ; 

Douglas and he must meet prepared/ 530 

Then right-hand wheeled their steeds, and straight 

They won the Castle's postern gate. 

XX 

The Douglas who had bent his way 

From Cambus-kenneth's abbey gray. 

Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf, 535 

Held sad communion with himself: — 

' Yes ! all is true my fears could frame ; 

A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, 

And fiery Roderick soon will feel 

The vengeance of the royal steel. 540 

I, only I, can ward their fate, — 

God grant the ransom come not late ! 

The Abbess hath her promise given. 

My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; — 

Be pardoned one repining tear ! 545 

For He who gave her knows how dear, 

[149] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

How excellent ! — but that is by, 

And now my business is — to die. — 

Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 

A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 550 

And thou, O sad and fatal mound ! 

That oft hast heard the death-axe sound, 

As on the noblest of the land 

Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, — 

The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 555 

Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom! 

But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal 

Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? 

And see ! upon the crowded street. 

In motley groups what masquers meet ! 560 

Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, 

And merry morrice-dancers come. 

I guess, by all this quaint array. 

The burghers hold their sports to-day. 

James will be there ; he loves such show, 565 

Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 

And the tough wrestler foils his foe, 

As well as where, in proud career. 

The high-born tilter shivers spear. 

I '11 follow to the Castle-park, 570 

And play my prize ; — King James shall mark 

If age has tamed these sinews stark. 

Whose force so oft in happier days 

His boyish wonder loved to praise.' 



[150] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

XXI 
The Castle gates were open flung, 575 

The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung, 
And echoed loud the flinty street 
Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, 
As slowly down the steep descent 
Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, 580 

While all along the crowded way 
Was jubilee and loud huzza. 
And ever James was bending low 
To his white jennet's saddle-bow, 
Doffing his cap to city dame, 585 

Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. 
And well the simperer might be vain, — 
He chose the fairest of the train. 
Gravely he greets each city sire. 
Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 590 

Gives to the dancers thanks aloud. 
And smiles and nods upon the crowd. 
Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, — 
' Long live the Commons' King, King James ! ' 
Behind the King thronged peer and knight, 595 
And noble dame and damsel bright, 
Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay 
Of the steep street and crowded way. 
But in the train you might discern 
Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; 600 

There nobles mourned their pride restrained, 
And the mean burgher's joys disdained ; 
And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, 

[151] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Were each from home a banished man, 

There thought upon their own gray tower, 605 

Their waving w^oods, their feudal power, 

And deemed themselves a shameful part 

Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 

XXII 

Now, in the Castle-park, drew out 

Their checkered bands the joyous rout. 610 

There morricers, with bell at heel 

And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ; 

But chief, beside the butts, there stand 

Bold Robin Hood and all his band, — 

Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, 615 

Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, 

Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone. 

Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; 

Their bugles challenge all that will. 

In archery to prove their skill. 620 

The Douglas bent a bow of might, — 

His first shaft centred in the white, 

And when in turn he shot again, 

His second split the first in tw^ain. 

From the King's hand must Douglas take 625 

A silver dart, the archers' stake ; 

Fondly he watched, with watery eye. 

Some answering glance of sympathy, — 

No kind emotion made reply ! 

Indifferent as to archer wight, 630 

The monarch gave the arrow bright. 

[152] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

XXIII 

Now, clear the ring ! for, hand to hand, 

The manly wrestlers take their stand. 

Two o'er the rest superior rose, 

And proud demanded mightier foes, — 635 

Nor called in vain, for Douglas came. — 

For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; 

Scarce better John of Alloa's fare. 

Whom senseless home his comrades bare. 

Prize of the wrestling match, the King 640 

To Douglas gave a golden ring, 

While coldly glanced his eye of blue, 

As frozen drop of wintry dew. 

Douglas would speak, but in his breast 

His struggling soul his words suppressed ; 645 

Indignant then he turned him where 

Their arms the brawny yeomen bare. 

To hurl the massive bar in air. 

When each his utmost strength had shown. 

The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 650 

From its deep bed, then heaved it high. 

And sent the fragment through the sky 

A rood beyond the farthest mark ; 

And still in Stirling's royal park. 

The gray-haired sires, who know the past, 655 

To strangers point the Douglas cast, 

And moralize on the decay 

Of Scottish strength in modern day. 



[153] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

XXIV 
The vale with loud applauses rang, 
The Ladies* Rock sent back the clang. 660 

The King, with look unmoved, bestowed 
A purse well filled with pieces broad. 
Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, 
-And threw the gold among the crowd. 
Who now with anxious wonder scan, 665 

And sharper glance, the dark gray man ; 
Till whispers rose among the throng. 
That heart so free, and hand so strong, 
Must to the Douglas blood belong. 
The old men marked and shook the head, 670 
To see his hair with silver spread. 
And winked aside, and told each son 
Of feats upon the English done. 
Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
Was exiled from his native land. 675 

The women praised his stately form. 
Though wrecked by many a winter's storm ; 
The youth with awe and wonder saw 
His strength surpassing Nature's law. 
Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 680 

Till murmurs rose to clamors loud. 
But not a glance from that proud ring 
Of peers who circled round the King 
With Douglas held communion kind, 
Or called the banished man to mind ; 685 

No, not from those who at the chase 
Once held his side the honored place, 

[154] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

Begirt his board, and in the field 

Found safety underneath his shield ; 

For he whom royal eyes disown, 690 

When was his form to courtiers known ! 

XXV 

The Monarch saw the gambols flag. 

And bade let loose a gallant stag. 

Whose pride, the holiday to crown. 

Two favorite greyhounds should pull down, 695 

That venison free and Bourdeaux wine 

Might serve the archery to dine. 

But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 

Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, 

The fleetest hound in all the North, — 700 

Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 

She left the royal hounds midway. 

And dashing on the antlered prey, 

Sunk her dark muzzle in his flank, 

And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 705 

The King's stout huntsman saw the sport 

By strange intruder broken short. 

Came up, and with his leash unbound 

In anger struck the noble hound. 

The Douglas had endured, that morn, 710 

The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, 

And last, and worst to spirit proud, 

Had borne the pity of the crowd ; 

But Lufra had been fondly bred. 

To share his board, to watch his bed, 715 

[iSS] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck 

In maiden glee with garlands deck ; 

They were such playmates that with name 

Of Lufra Ellen's image came. 

His stifled wrath is brimming high, 720 

In darkened brow and flashing eye ; 

As waves before the bark divide, 

The crowd gave way before his stride ; 

Needs but a buffet and no more, 

The groom lies senseless in his gore. 725 

Such blow no other hand could deal, 

Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 

XXVI 

Then clamored loud the royal train, 

And brandished swords and staves amain. 

But stern the Baron's warning : ' Back ! 730 

Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! 

Beware the Douglas. — Yes ! behold. 

King James ! The Douglas, doomed of old, 

And vainly sought for near and far, 

A victim to atone the war, 7^$ 

A willing victim, now attends, 

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.' — 

' Thus is my clemency repaid ? 

Presumptuous Lord ! ' the Monarch said : 

' Of thy misproud ambitious clan, 740 

Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, 

The only man, in whom a foe 

My woman-mercy would not know ; 

[156] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

But shall a Monarch's presence brook 

Injurious blow and haughty look? — 745 

What ho ! the Captain of our Guard ! 

Give the offender fitting ward. — 

Break off the sports ! ' — for tumult rose, 

And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — 

* Break off the sports!' he said and frowned, 750 
'And bid our horsemen clear the ground.' 

XXVII 

Then uproar wild and misarray 

Marred the fair form of festal day. 

The horsemen pricked among the crowd, 

Repelled by threats and insult loud ; 755 

To earth are borne the old and weak, 

The timorous fly, the women shriek ; 

With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar. 

The hardier urge tumultuous war. 

At once round Douglas darkly sweep 760 

The royal spears in circle deep, 

And slowly scale the pathway steep. 

While on the rear in thunder pour 

The rabble with disordered roar. 

With grief the noble Douglas saw 76.5 

The Commons rise against the law. 

And to the leading soldier said : 

* Sir John of Hyndford, 't was my blade 
That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; 

For that good deed permit me then 770 

A word with these misguided men. — 

[157] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

XXVIII 

' Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me 

Ye break the bands of fealty. 

My life, my honor, and my cause, 

I tender free to Scotland's laws. 775 

Are these so weak as must require 

The aid of your misguided ire ? 

Or if I suffer causeless wrong, 

Is then my selfish rage so strong. 

My sense of public weal so low, 780 

That, for mean vengeance on a foe, 

Those cords of love I should unbind 

Which knit my country and my kind ? 

O no ! Believe, in yonder tower 

It will not soothe my captive hour, 785 

To know those spears our foes should dread 

For me in kindred gore are red : 

To know, in fruitless brawl begun. 

For me that mother wails her son. 

For me that widow's mate expires, 790 

For me that orphans weep their sires, 

That patriots mourn insulted laws, 

And curse the Douglas for the cause. 

O let your patience ward such ill. 

And keep your right to love me still ! ' 795 

XXIX 

The crowd's wild fury sunk again 
In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 

[158] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 

With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed 

For blessings on his generous head 

Who for his country felt alone, 800 

And prized her blood beyond his own. 

Old men upon the verge of life 

Blessed him who stayed the civil strife ; 

And mothers held their babes on high, 

The self-devoted Chief to spy, 805 

Triumphant over wrongs and ire. 

To whom the prattlers owed a sire. 

Even the rough soldier's heart was moved ; 

As if behind some bier beloved. 

With trailing arms and drooping head, 810 

The Douglas up the hill he led, 

And at the Castle's battled verge, 

With sighs resigned his honored charge. 

XXX 

The offended Monarch rode apart. 

With bitter thought and swelling heart, 815 

And would not now vouchsafe again 

Through Stirling streets to lead his train. 

' O Lennox, who would wish to rule 

This changeling crowd, this common fool ? 

Hear'st thou/ he said, ' the loud acclaim 820 

With which they shout the Douglas name ? 

With like acclaim the vulgar throat 

Strained for King James their morning note ; 

With like acclaim they hailed the day 

When first I broke the Douglas sway ; 825 

■ . [159] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And like acclaim would Douglas greet 

If he could hurl me from my seat. 

Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, 

Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ? 

Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 830 

And fickle as a changeful dream ; 

Fantastic as a woman's mood, 

And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. 

Thou many-headed monster-thing, 

O, who would wish to be thy king } — 835 

XXXI 

' But soft ! what messenger of speed 

Spurs hitherward his panting steed ? 

I guess his cognizance afar — 

What from our cousin, John of Mar ? ' 

' He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 840 

Within the safe and guarded ground ; 

For some foul purpose yet unknown, — 

Most sure for evil to the throne, — 

The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 

Has summoned his rebellious crew ; 845 

'T is said, in James of Bothwell's aid 

These loose banditti stand arrayed. 

The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune 

To break their muster marched, and soon 

Your Grace will hear of battle fought ; 850 

But earnestly the Earl besought. 

Till for such danger he provide. 

With scanty train you will not ride/ 

[160] 



FIFTH] THE COMBAT 



XXXII 



* Thou warn'st me I have done amiss, — 

I should have earher looked to this ; 855 

I lost it in this bustling day. — 

Retrace with speed thy former way ; 

Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 

The best of mine shall be thy meed. 

Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 860 

We do forbid the intended war ; 

Roderick this morn in single fight 

Was made our prisoner by a knight, 

And Douglas hath himself and cause 

Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 865 

The tidings of their leaders lost 

Will soon dissolve the mountain host, 

Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 

For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. 

Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly ! ' 870 

He turned his steed, — ' My liege, I hie, 

Yet ere I cross this lily lawn 

I fear the broadswords will be drawn.' 

The turf the flying courser spurned. 

And to his towers the King returned. 875 

XXXIII 

111 with King James's mood that day 
Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; 
Soon were dismissed the courtly throng. 
And soon cut short the festal song. 

[161] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Nor less upon the saddened town 880 

The evening sunk in sorrow down. 

The burghers spoke of civil jar, 

Of rumored feuds and mountain war, 

Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 

All up in arms ; — the Douglas too, 885 

They mourned him pent within the hold, 

' Where stout Earl William was of old/ — 

And there his word the speaker stayed. 

And finger on his lip he laid. 

Or pointed to his dagger blade. 890 

But jaded horsemen from the west 

At evening to the Castle pressed. 

And busy talkers said they bore 

Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; 

At noon the deadly fray begun, 895 

And lasted till the set of sun. 

Thus giddy rumor shook the town, 

Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 



[162] 




CANTO SIXTH 



THE GUARD-ROOM 



^HE sun, awakening, through the smoky air 
Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, 
JjL Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, 
Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; 
Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 5 

Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; 

Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance, 
And warning student pale to leave his pen. 
And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. 

What various scenes, and O, what scenes of woe, 10 

Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam ! 
The fevered patient, from his pallet low, 

Through crowded hospital beholds it stream ; 

The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam, 
The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, 15 

The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ; 
The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale. 
Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. 

[163] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

II 

At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 

With soldier-step and weapon-clang, , 20 

While drums with rolling note foretell 

Relief to weary sentinel. 

Through narrow loop and casement barred, 

The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, 

And, struggling with the smoky air, 25 

Deadened the torches' yellow glare. 

In comfortless alliance shone 

The lights through arch of blackened stone, 

And showed wild shapes in garb of war. 

Faces deformed with beard and scar, 30 

All haggard from the midnight watch, 

And fevered with the stern debauch ; 

For the oak table's massive board, 

Flooded with wine, with fragments stored. 

And beakers drained, and cups overthrown, 35 

Showed in what sport the night had flown. 

Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; 

Some labored still their thirst to quench ; 

Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands 

O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 40 

While round them, or beside them flung. 

At every step their harness rung. 

Ill 

These drew not for their fields the sword, 
Like tenants of a feudal lord, 

[164] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

Nor owned the patriarchal claim 45 

Of Chieftain in their leader's name ; 

Adventurers they, from far who roved, 

To live by battle which they loved. 

There the Italian's clouded face, 

The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace; 50 

The mountain-loving Switzer there 

More freely breathed in mountain-air; 

The Fleming there despised the soil 

That paid so ill the laborer's toil ; 

Their rolls showed French and German name ; 55 

And merry England's exiles came, 

To share, with ill-concealed disdain. 

Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 

All brave in arms, well trained to wield 

The heavy halberd, brand, and shield ; 60 

In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; 

In pillage fierce and uncontrolled ; 

And now, by holytide and feast. 

From rules of discipline released. 

IV 

They held debate of bloody fray, 65 

Fought ' twixt Loch Katrine and Achray. 

Fierce was their speech, and mid their words 

Their hands oft grappled to their swords ; 

Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 

Of wounded comrades groaning near, 70 

Whose mangled limbs and bodies gored 

Bore token of the mountain sword, 

[165] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard, 

Their prayers and feverish wails were heard, — 

Sad burden to the ruffian joke, 75 

And savage oath by fury spoke ! — 

At length up started John of Brent, 

A yeoman from the banks of Trent ; 

A stranger to respect or fear, 

In peace a chaser of the deer, 80 

In host a hardy mutineer. 

But still the boldest of the crew 

When deed of danger was to do. 

He grieved that day their games cut short, 

And marred the dicer's brawling sport, 85 

And shouted loud, ' Renew the bowl ! 

And, while a merry catch I troll. 

Let each the buxom chorus bear. 

Like brethren of the brand and spear.' 

V 

Soldier's Song 

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 90 

Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl. 

That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack. 

And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; 

Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor. 

Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar ! 95 

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 
The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip, 

[166] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

Says that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, 
And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye ; 
Yet whoop, Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, loo 

Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar ! 

Our vicar thus preaches, — and why should he not ? 
For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; 
And 't is right of his office poor laymen to lurch 
Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church. 105 
Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor. 
Sweet Marjorie 's the word, and a fig for the vicar ! 



VI 

The warder's challenge, heard without, 
Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout. 
A soldier to the portal went, — no 

' Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ; 
And — beat for jubilee the drum ! — 
A maid and minstrel with him come.' 
Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred. 
Was entering now the Court of Guard, 115 

A harper with him, and, in plaid 
All muffled close, a mountain maid. 
Who backward shrunk to 'scape the view 
Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 
' What news ? ' they roared : — 'I only know, 120 
From noon till eve we fought with foe. 
As wild and as untamable 
As the rude mountains where they dwell ; 
[167] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

On both sides store of blood is lost, 

Nor much success can either boast/ — 125 

' But whence thy captives, friend ? such spoil 

As theirs must needs reward thy toil. 

Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp ; 

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp ! 

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 130 

The leader of a juggler band/ 

VII 

' No, comrade ; — no sudh fortune mine. 
After the fight these sought our line, 
That aged harper and the girl, 
And, having audience of the Earl, 135 

Mar bade I should purvey them steed. 
And bring them hitherward with speed. 
Forbear your mirth and rude alarm. 
For none shall do them shame or harm.' — 
* Hear ye his boast ? ' cried John of Brent, 140 
Ever to strife and jangling bent ; 
' Shall he strike doe beside our lodge, 
And yet the jealous niggard grudge 
To pay the forester his fee ? 
I '11 have my share however it be, 145 

Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee.' 
Bertram his forward step withstood ; 
And, burning in his vengeful mood, 
Old Allan, though unfit for strife. 
Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ; 150 

But Ellen boldly stepped between, 
[168] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

And dropped at once the tartan screen : — 

So, from his morning cloud, appears 

The sun of May through summer tears. 

The savage soldiery, amazed, 155 

As on descended angel gazed ; 

Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed, 

Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 

VIII 

Boldly she spoke : ' Soldiers, attend ! 
My father was the soldier's friend, 160 

Cheered him in camps, in marches led, 
And with him in the battle bled. 
Not from the valiant or the strong 
Should exile's daughter suffer wrong/ 
Answered De Brent, most forward still 165 

In every feat or good or ill : 
' I shame me of the part I played ; 
And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! 
An outlaw I by forest laws. 

And merry Needwood knows the cause. 170 

Poor Rose, — if Rose be living now,' — 
He wiped his iron eye and brow, — 
' Must bear such age, I think, as thou. — 
Hear ye, my mates ! I go to call 
The Captain of our watch to hall : 175 

There lies my halberd on the floor ; 
And he that steps my halberd o'er, 
To do the maid injurious part. 
My shaft shall quiver in his heart ! 
[169] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Beware loose speech, or jesting rough; i8o 

Ye all know John de Brent. Enough/ 

IX 

Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 
Of Tullibardine's house he sprung, — 
Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; 
Gay was his mien, his humor light, 18-5 

And, though by courtesy controlled, 
Forward his speech, his bearing bold. 
The high-born maiden ill could brook 
The scanning of his curious look 
And dauntless eye : — and yet, in sooth, 190 

Young Lewis was a generous youth ; 
But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 
111 suited to the garb and scene. 
Might lightly bear construction strange. 
And give loose fancy scope to range. 195 

* Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid ! 
Come ye to seek a champion's aid, 
On palfrey white, with harper hoar. 
Like errant damosel of yore ? 

Does thy high quest a knight require, 200 

Or may the venture suit a squire ? ' 
Her dark eye flashed ; — she paused and sighed : — 
' O what have I to do with pride ! — 
Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, 
A suppliant for a father's life, 205 

I crave an audience of the King. 
Behold, to back my suit, a ring, 

[170] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

The royal pledge of grateful claims, 
Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James.' 

X 

The signet-ring young Lewis took 210 

With deep respect and altered look, 
And said : ' This ring our duties own ; 
And pardon, if to worth unknown. 
In semblance mean obscurely veiled, 
Lady, in aught my folly failed. 215 

Soon as the day flings wide his gates. 
The King shall know what suitor waits. 
Please you meanwhile in fitting bower 
Repose you till his waking hour ; 
Female attendance shall obey 220 

Your hest, for service or array. 
Permit I marshal you the way.' 
But, ere she followed, with the grace 
And open bounty of her race. 
She bade her slender purse be shared 225 

Among the soldiers of the guard. 
The rest with thanks their guerdon took, 
But Brent, with shy and awkward look. 
On the reluctant maiden's hold 
Forced bluntly back the proffered gold : — 230 
' Forgive a haughty English heart. 
And O, forget its ruder part ! 
The vacant purse shall be my share, 
Which in my barret-cap I '11 bear, 
"^Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 235 

[172] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

Where gayer crests may keep afar/ 

With thanks — 't was all she could — the maid 

His rugged courtesy repaid. 

XI 

When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 

Allan made suit to John of Brent : — 240 

' My lady safe, O let your grace 

Give me to see my master's face ! 

His minstrel I, — to share his doom 

Bound from the cradle to the tomb. 

Tenth in descent, since first my sires 245 

Waked for his noble house their lyres. 

Nor one of all the race was known 

But prized its weal above their own. 

With the Chief's birth begins our care ; 

Our harp must soothe the infant heir, 250 

Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 

His earliest feat of field or chase ; 

In peace, in war, our rank we keep. 

We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep. 

Nor leave him till we pour our verse — 255 

A doleful tribute ! — o'er his hearse. 

Then let me share his captive lot; 

It is my right, — deny it not ! ' 

' Little we reck,' said John of Brent, 

* We Southern men, of long descent ; 260 

Nor wot we how a name — a word — 

Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : 

Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — 

[173] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

God bless the house of Beaudesert ! 

And, but I loved to drive the deer 265 

More than to guide the laboring steer, 

I had not dwelt an outcast here. 

Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; 

Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see/ 

XII 

Then, from a rusted iron hook, 270 

A bunch of ponderous keys he took, 

Lighted a torch, and Allan led 

Through grated arch and passage dread. 

Portals they passed, where, deep within, 

Spoke prisoner's moan and fetters' din ; 275 

Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored. 

Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword. 

And many a hideous engine grim, 

For \\Tenching joint and crushing limb, 

By artists formed who deemed it shame 2S0 

xAnd sin to give their work a name. 

They halted at a low-browed porch, 

And Brent to Allan gave the torch. 

While bolt and chain he backward rolled. 

And made the bar unhasp its hold. 2S5 

They entered : — ' t was a prison-room 

Of stern security and gloom. 

Yet not a dungeon ; for the day 

Through loft}' gratings found its way. 

And rude and antique garniture 290 

Decked the sad walls and oaken floor, 

[174] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

Such as the rugged days of old 

Deemed fit for captive noble's hold. 

'Here,' said De Brent, 'thou mayst remain 

Till the Leech visit him again. 295 

Strict is his charge, the warders tell, 

To tend the noble prisoner well.' 

Retiring then the bolt he drew, 

And the lock's murmurs growled anew. 

Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 300 

A captive feebly raised his head ; 

The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew — 

Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu ! 

For, come from where Clan- Alpine fought. 

They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought. 305 

XIII 

As the tall ship, whose lofty prore 

Shall never stem the billows more. 

Deserted by her gallant band, 

Amid the breakers lies astrand, — 

So on his couch lay Roderick Dhu ! 310 

And oft his fevered limbs he threw 

In toss abrupt, as when her sides 

Lie rocking in the advancing tides. 

That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, 

Yet cannot heave her from her seat; — 315 

O, how unlike her course at sea ! 

Or his free step on hill and lea ! — 

.Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, — 

' What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? — 

[175] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! 320 

Have they been ruined in my fall ? 

Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ? 

Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear.' 

For Allan, who his mood well knew. 

Was choked with grief and terror too. — 325 

' Who fought ? — who fled ? — Old man, be brief ; — 

Some might, — for they had lost their Chief. 

Who basely live ? — who bravely died ? ' 

' O, calm thee, Chief ! ' the Minstrel cried, 

' Ellen is safe ! ' ' For that thank Heaven ! ' 330 

* And hopes are for the Douglas given ; — 

The Lady Margaret, too, is well ; 

And, for thy clan, — on field or fell, 

Has never harp of minstrel told 

Of combat fought so true and bold. 335 

Thy stately Pine is yet unbent. 

Though many a goodly bough is rent.' 

XIV 

The Chieftain reared his form on high. 

And fever's fire was in his eye ; 

But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 340 

Checkered his swarthy brow and cheeks. 

' Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play, 

With measure bold on festal day. 

In yon lone isle, — again where ne'er 

Shall harper play or warrior hear ! — 345 

That stirring air that peals on high. 

O'er Dermid's race our victory. — 

[176] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

Strike it ! — and then, — for well thou canst, — 

Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced, 

Fling me the picture of the fight, 350 

When met my clan the Saxon might. 

I '11 listen, till my fancy hears 

The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! 

These grates, these walls, shall vanish then 

For the fair field of fighting men, 355 

And my free spirit burst away, 

As if it soared from battle fray/ 

The trembling Bard with awe obeyed, — 

Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; 

But soon remembrance of the sight 360 

He witnessed from the mountain's height, 

With what old Bertram told at night. 

Awakened the full power of song. 

And bore him in career along ; — 

As shallop launched on river's tide, 365 

That slow and fearful leaves the side. 

But, when it feels the middle stream. 

Drives downward swift as lightning's beam. 

XV 

Battle of BeaV an Duine 

' The minstrel came once more to view 

The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 370 

For ere he parted he would say 

Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — 

Where shall he find, in foreign land, 

So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — 

[177] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

There is no breeze upon the fern, 375 

No ripple on the lake, 
Upon her eyry nods the erne, 

The deer has sought the brake ; 
The small birds will not sing aloud, 

The springing trout lies still, 380 

So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud. 
That swathes, as with a purple shroud, 

Benledi's distant hill. 
Is it the thunder's solemn sound 

That mutters deep and dread, 385 

Or echoes from the groaning ground 

The warrior's measured tread ? 
Is it the lightning's quivering glance 

That on the thicket streams. 
Or do they flash on spear and lance 390 

The sun's retiring beams ? — 
I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
I see the Moray's silver star, 
Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war. 
That up the lake comes winding far ! 395 

To hero boune for battle-strife. 

Or bard of martial lay, 
T were worth ten years of peaceful life. 

One glance at their array ! 

XVI 

* Their light-armed archers far and near 400 

Surv^eyed the tangled ground, 

[178] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 

A twihght forest frowned, 
Their barded horsemen in the rear 

The stern battaha crowned. 405 

No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang, 

Still were the pipe and drum ; 
Save heavy tread, and armor's clang. 

The sullen march was dumb. 
There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 410 

Or wave their flags abroad ; 
Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake, 

That shadowed o'er their road. 
Their vaward scouts no tidings bring. 

Can rouse no lurking foe, 415 

Nor spy a trace of living thing. 

Save when they stirred the roe ; 
The host moves like a deep-sea wave. 
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave. 

High-swelling, dark, and slow. 420 

The lake is passed, and now they gain 
A narrow and a broken plain. 
Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; 
And here the horse and spearmen pause, 
While, to explore the dangerous glen, 425 

Dive through the pass the archer-men. 



XVII 

'At once there rose so wild a yell 
Within that dark and narrow dell, 

[179] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

As all the fiends from heaven that fell 
Had pealed the banner-cry of hell ! 430 

Forth from the pass in tumult driven, 
Like chaff before the wind of heaven, 

The archery appear : 
For life ! for life ! their flight they ply — 
And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 435 

And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
And broadswords flashing to the sky, 

Are maddening in the rear. 
Onward they drive in dreadful race, 

Pursuers and pursued ; 440 

Before that tide of flight and chase. 
How shall it keep its rooted place. 

The spearmen's twilight wood ? — 
''Down, down," cried Mar, ''your lances down! 

Bear back both friend and foe ! " — 445 

Like reeds before the tempest's frown, 
That serried grove of lances brown 

At once lay levelled low ; 
And closely shouldering side to side. 
The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 450 

" We 11 quell the savage mountaineer, 

As their Tinchel cows the game ! 
They come as fleet as forest deer. 

We '11 drive them back as tame." 

XVIII 

' Bearing before them in their course 455 

The relics of the archer force, 

[180] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, 
Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. 
Above the tide, each broadsword bright 
Was brandishing like beam of light, 460 

Each targe was dark below ; 
And with the ocean's mighty swing, 
When heaving to the tempest's wing, 
They hurled them on the foe. 
I heard the lance's shivering crash, 465 

As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; 
I heard the broadsword's deadly clang. 
As if a hundred anvils rang ! 
But Moray wheeled his rearward rank 
Of horsemen on Clan- Alpine's flank, — 470 

'' My banner-man, advance ! 
I see," he cried, ''their column shake. 
Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake. 

Upon them with the lance ! " — 
The horsemen dashed among the rout, 475 

As deer break through the broom ; 
Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, 

They soon make lightsome room. 
Clan- Alpine's best are backward borne — 

Where, where was Roderick then ! 480 

One blast upon his bugle-horn 

Were worth a thousand men. 
And refluent through the pass of fear 

The battle's tide was poured ; 
Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, 485 

Vanished the mountain-sword. 

[181] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, 

Receives her roaring Hnn, 
As the dark caverns of the deep 

Suck the wild whirlpool in, 490 

So did the deep and darksome pass 
Devour the battle's mingled mass ; 
None linger now upon the plain, 
Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 

XIX 

' Now westward rolls the battle's din, 495 

That deep and doubling pass within. — 

Minstrel, away ! the work of fate 

Is bearing on ; its issue wait. 

Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 

Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. 500 

Gray Ben venue I soon repassed, 

Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 

The sun is set ; — the clouds are met, 
The lowering scowl of heaven 

An inky hue of livid blue 505 

To the deep lake has given ; 
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. 
I heeded not the eddying surge, 
Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 510 

Mine ear but heard that sullen sound. 
Which like an earthquake shook the ground, 
And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
That parts not but with parting life, 

[182] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 515 

The dirge of many a passing soul. 
Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 
The martial flood disgorged again, 

But not in mingled tide ; 
The plaided warriors of the North 520 

High on the mountain thunder forth 

And overhang its side, 
While by the lake below appears 
The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. 
At weary bay each shattered band, 525 

Eying their foemen, sternly stand ; 
Their banners stream like tattered sail, 
That flings its fragments to the gale, 
And broken arms and disarray 
Marked the fell havoc of the day. 530 



XX 

' Viewing the mountain's ridge askance. 
The Saxons stood in sullen trance, 
Till Moray pointed with his lance. 

And cried : '' Behold yon isle ! — 
See ! none are left to guard its strand 535 

But women weak, that wring the hand : 
'T is there of yore the robber band 

Their booty wont to pile ; — 
My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, 
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 540 

And loose a shallop from the shore. 

[183] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Lightly we '11 tame the war-wolf then, 

Lords of his mate, and brood, and den." 

Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, 

On earth his casque and corselet rung, 545 

He plunged him in the wave : — 
All saw the deed, — the purpose knew, 
And to their clamors Ben venue 

A mingled echo gave ; 
The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 550 

The helpless females scream for fear. 
And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
'T was then, as by the outcry riven, 
Poured down at once the lowering heaven : 
A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, 555 

Her billows reared their snowy crest. 
Well for the swimmer swelled they high. 
To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; 
For round him showered, mid rain and hail, 
The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 560 

In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo ! 
His hand is on a shallop's bow. 
Just then a flash of lightning came. 
It tinged the waves and strand with flame ; 
I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, 565 

Behind an oak I saw her stand, 
A naked dirk gleamed in her hand : — 
It darkened, — but amid the moan 
Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — 
Another flash ! — the spearman floats 570 

A weltering corse beside the boats, 

[184] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

And the stern matron o'er him stood, 
Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 

XXI 

' '' Revenge ! revenge ! " the Saxons cried, 

The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 575 

Despite the elemental rage. 

Again they hurried to engage ; 

But, ere they closed in desperate fight, . 

Bloody with spurring came a knight. 

Sprung from his horse, and from a crag 580 

Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. 

Clarion and trumpet by his side 

Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, 

While, in the Monarch's name, afar 

A herald's voice forbade the war, 585 

For Bothwell's lord and Roderick bold 

Were both, he said, in captive hold.' — 

But here the lay made sudden stand. 

The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand ! 

Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 590 

How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy : 

At first, the Chieftain, to the chime, 

With lifted hand kept feeble time ; 

That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 

Varied his look as changed the song; 595 

At length, no more his deafened ear 

The minstrel melody can hear ; 

His face grows sharp, — his hands are clenched. 

As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched ; 

[185] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Set are his teeth, his fading eye 600 

Is sternly fixed on vacancy ; 

Thus, motionless and moanless, drew 

His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu ! — 

Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, 

While grim and still his spirit passed ; 605 

But when he saw that life was fled, 

He poured his wailing o'er the dead. 

XXII 

Lament 

* And art thou cold and lowly lafid, 

Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 

Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade ! 610 

For thee shall none a requiem say ? — 

For thee, who loved the minstrel's lay. 

For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay. 

The shelter of her exiled line. 

E'en in this prison-house of thine, 615 

I '11 wail for Alpine's honored Pine ! 

' What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! 
What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! 
What tears of burning rage shall thrill. 
When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 620 

Thy fall before the race was won, 
Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! 
There breathes not clansman of thy line, 
But would have given his life for thine. 
O, w^oe for Alpine's honored Pine ! 625 

[186] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

' Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — 

The captive thrush may brook the cage, 

The prisoned eagle dies for rage. 

Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! 

And, when its notes awake again, 630 

Even she, so long beloved in vain, 

Shall with my harp her voice combine, 

And mix her woe and tears with mine. 

To wail Clan- Alpine's honored Pine.' 



XXIII 

Ellen the while, with bursting heart, 635 

Remained in lordly bower apart. 

Where played, with many-colored gleams 

Through storied pane the rising beams. 

In vain on gilded roof they fall. 

And lightened up a tapestried wall, 640 

And for her use a menial train 

A rich collation spread in vain. 

The banquet proud, the chamber gay, 

Scarce drew one curious glance astray ; 

Or if she looked, 't was but to say, 645 

With better omen dawned the day 

In that lone isle, where waved on high 

The dun-deer's hide for canopy ; 

Where oft her noble father shared 

The simple meal her care prepared, 650 

While Lufra, crouching by her side, 

Her station claimed with jealous pride, 

[187] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

And Douglas, bent on woodland game, 

Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, 

Whose answer, oft at random made, 655 

The wandering of his thoughts betrayed. 

Those who such simple joys have known 

Are taught to prize them when they 're gone. 

But sudden, see, she lifts her head. 

The window seeks with cautious tread. 660 

What distant music has the power 

To win her in this woful hour ? 

'Twas from a turret that o'erhung 

Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 

XXIV 

Lay of the Imprisoned Huntsman 

' My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 665 

My idle greyhound loathes his food. 

My horse is weary of his stall. 

And I am sick of captive thrall. 

I wish I were as I have been. 

Hunting the hart in forest green, 670 

With bended bow and bloodhound free. 

For that 's the life is meet for me. 

' I hate to learn the ebb of time 

From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime. 

Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 675 

Inch after inch, along the wall. 

The lark was wont my matins ring, 

The sable rook my vespers sing, 

[188] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

These towers, although a king's they be, 

Have not a hall of joy for me 680 

* No more at dawning morn I rise, 

And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, 

Drive the fleet deer the forest through, 

And homeward wend with evening dew ; 

A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 685 

And lay my trophies at her feet, 

While fled the eve on wing of glee, — 

That life is lost to love and me ! ' 

XXV 

The heart-sick lay was hardly said. 

The listener had not turned her head, 690 

It trickled still, the starting tear. 

When light a footstep struck her ear. 

And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. 

She turned the hastier, lest again 

The prisoner should renew his strain. 695 

' O welcome, brave Fitz-James ! ' she said ; 

' How may an almost orphan maid 

Pay the deep debt — ' ' O say not so ! 

To me no gratitude you owe. 

Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, 700 

And bid thy noble father live ; 

I can but be thy guide, sweet maid. 

With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 

No tyrant he, though ire and pride 

May lay his better mood aside. ' 705 

[189] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

Come, Ellen, come ! 't is more than time, 

He holds his court at morning prime/ 

With beating heart, and bosom wrung, 

As to a brother's arm she clung. 

Gently he dried the falling tear, 710 

And gently whispered hope and cheer ; 

Her faltering steps half led, half stayed, 

Through gallery fair and high arcade, 

Till at his touch its wings of pride 

A portal arch unfolded wide. 715 



XXVI 

Within 'twas brilUant all and light, 
A thronging scene of figures bright; 
It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight. 
As when the setting sun has given 
Ten thousand hues to summer even, 720 

And from their tissue fancy frames 
Aerial knights and fairy dames. 
Still by Fitz-James her footing staid ; 
A few faint steps she forward made, 
Then slow her drooping head she raised, 725 

And fearful round the presence gazed ; 
For him she sought who owned this state. 
The dreaded Prince whose will was fate ! — 
She gazed on many a princely port 
Might well have ruled a royal court ; 730 

On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 
Then turned bewildered and amazed, 
[190] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

For all stood bare ; and in the room 

Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. 

To him each lady's look was lent, 735 

On him each courtier's eye was bent ; 

Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, 

He stood, in simple Lincoln green, 

The centre of the glittering ring, — 

And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King ! 740 

XXVII 

As wreath of snow on mountain-breast 

Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 

Poor Ellen glided from her stay. 

And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; 

No word her choking voice commands, — 745 

She showed the ring, — she clasped her hands. 

0, not a moment could he brook. 

The generous Prince, that suppliant look ! 

Gently he raised her, — and, the while. 

Checked with a glance the circle's smile ; 750 

Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed. 

And bade her terrors be dismissed : — 

' Yes, fair ; the wandering poor Fitz-James 

The fealty of Scotland claims. 

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ; 755 

He will redeem his signet ring. 

Ask naught for Douglas ; — yester even. 

His Prince and he have much forgiven ; 

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 

1, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 760 

[191] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

We would not, to the vulgar crowd, 

Yield what they craved with clamor loud ; 

Calmly we heard and judged his cause. 

Our council aided and our laws. 

I stanched thy father's death-feud stern 765 

With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn; 

And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 

The friend and bulwark of our throne. — 

But, lovely infidel, how now ? 

What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? 770 

Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; 

Thou must confirm this doubting maid.' 

XXVIII 

Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 
And on his neck his daughter hung. 
The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 775 

The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — 
When it can say with godlike voice, 
Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! 
Yet would not James the general eye 
On nature's raptures long should pry ; 780 

He stepped between — ' Nay, Douglas, nay, 
Steal not my proselyte away ! 
The riddle 'tis my right to read, 
That brought this happy chance to speed. 
Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 785 

In life's more low but happier way, 
'Tis under name which veils my power. 
Nor falsely veils, — for Stirling's tower 
[192] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, 

And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 790 

Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, 

Thus learn to right the injured cause/ 

Then, in a tone apart and low, — 

' Ah, little traitress ! none must know 

What idle dream, what lighter thought, 795 

What vanity full dearly bought. 

Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 

My spell-bound steps to Benvenue 

In dangerous hour, and all but gave 

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! ' 800 

Aloud he spoke : ' Thou still dost hold 

That little talisman of gold, 

Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring, — - 

What seeks fair Ellen of the King ? ' 



XXIX 

Full well the conscious maiden guessed 805 

He probed the weakness of her breast ; 

But with that consciousness there came 

A lightening of her fears for Graeme, 

And more she deemed the Monarch's ire 

Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire 810 

Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; 

And, to her generous feeling true, 

She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. 

' Forbear thy suit ; — the King of kings 

Alone can stay life's parting wings. 815 

[193] 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto 

I know his heart, I know his hand, 

Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand : — 

My fairest earldom would I give 

To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live ! — 

Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 820 

No other captive friend to save ? ' 

Blushing, she turned her from the King, 

And to the Douglas gave the ring. 

As if she wished her sire to speak 

The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 825 

* Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 

And stubborn justice holds her course. 

Malcolm, come forth ! ' — and, at the word, 

Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. 

' For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 830 

From thee may Vengeance claim her dues. 

Who, nurtured underneath our smile, 

Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, 

And sought amid thy faithful clan 

A refuge for an outlawed man, 835 

Dishonoring thus thy loyal name. — 

Fetters and warder for the Graeme ! ' 

His chain of gold the King unstrung. 

The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung. 

Then gently drew the glittering band, 840 

And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 



Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark. 
On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 
8 In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, 

[194] 



SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM 

The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending. 845 
Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending. 

And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; 

Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending, 

With distant echo from the fold and lea, 

And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. 850 

Yet once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp ! 

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, 
And little reck I of the censure sharp 

May idly cavil at an idle lay. 

Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 855 
Through secret woes the world has never known, 

When on the weary night dawned wearier day. 
And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. — 
That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress ! is thine own. 

Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 860 

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 
'T is now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 

'T is now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 

Receding now the dying numbers ring 
Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell ; 865 

And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 
A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — 
And now, 't is silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well ! 



[195] 



NOTES 



I. THE TEXT 

The text of this edition of The Lady of the Lake is based on that of 
the first edition, published in 1810 by John Ballantyne and Co., Edin- 
burgh,! with a few variants taken from Black's Author''s Editio7t and 
Chambers's People'' s Edition. Subjoined is a selection from many 
changes which Scott made on the original manuscript of the poem. 
These reveal something of Scott's literary artistry and craftsmanship ; 
they also show the absurdity of the oft-repeated claim that Scott, like 
Shakespeare, " never blotted a line." The printed text,^when compared 
with the original manuscript, reveals as many and as significant altera- 
tions as we find in the earlier and later texts of Wordsworth's poems 
or Tennyson's. 

On the following pages is a facsimile of the original manuscript of 
the two opening stanzas of Canto First, where the reader may detect for 
himself the corrections and changes made for the printed text. 

Manuscript Variations 

[The figures in heavy-faced type refer to the pages ; those in plain type, to 
the lines of the text.] 

Canto First 

2 34-35 The blood-hound's notes of heavy bass 

Resounded hoarsely up the pass. 

1 '' Early in May the Lady of the Lake came out — as her two elder 
sisters [The Lay of the Last Minstrel and Marmioit] had done — in all 
the majesty of quarto, with every accompanying grace of typography, 
and with, moreover, an engraved frontispiece, of Saxon's portrait of 
Scott ; the price of the book, two guineas. For the copyright the poet 
had nominally received 2000 guineas." — Lockhart's Life of Scott 

[197] 




[198] 







^ 



4 



[199] 



NOTES 

5 98-99 Fresh vigour with the thought return'd, 

With flying hoof the heath he spurn'd. 

8 180-181 And on the hunter hied his pace, 
r To meet some comrades of the chase. 

11 275-276 His ruined sides and fragments hoar 

While on the north to middle air. 

12 305-306 And hollow trunk of some old tree, 

My chamber for the night must be. 

Canto Second 

39 223-224 Courtiers gave place with heartless stride 
Of the retiring homicide. 

47 444 The chorus to the chieftain's fame. 

50 521 The dogs with whimpering notes repaid. 

50 527 Like fabled huntress of the wood. 

62 860 He spoke, and plunged into the tide. 



Canto Third 

66 31-36 The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 

Begemm'd with dew-drops, led her fawn ; 
Invisible in fleecy cloud. 
The lark sent down her matins loud ; 
The light mist left, etc. 

81 410-413 Angus, the first of Duncan's line, 

Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign, 
And then upon his kinsman's bier 
Fell Malise's suspended tear. 
In haste the stripling to his side 
His father's targe and falchion tied. 

83 459-460 And where a steep and wooded knoll 

Graced the dark strath with emerald green. 

92 693-694 To drown his grief in war's wild roar. 
Nor think of love and Ellen more. 

[ 200 ] 



THE TEXT 

Canto Fourth 

97 2 And rapture dearest when obscured by fears. 

102 132 Which foremost spills a foeman's life. 

104 207-210 No, Allan, no ! His words so kind 
Were but pretexts my fears to blind, 
When in such solemn tone and grave, 
Douglas a parting blessing gave. 

107 282-284 'T was but a midnight chance ; 

For blindfold was the battle plied, 
And fortune held the lance. 

120 578-581 Sweet William was a woodsman true 
He stole poor Blanche's heart away. 
His coat was of the forest hue, 
And sweet he sung the Lowland lay. 

Canto Fifth 

130 36-37 At length they paced the mountain side. 
And saw beneath the waters wide. 

136 208-211 And each lone tuft of broom gives life 
To plaided warrior arm'd for strife. 
The whistle manned the lonely glen 
With full five hundred armed men. 

139 286-287 And still from copse and heather bush, 
Fancy saw spear and broadsword rush. 

Canto Sixth 

164 23 Through blacken'd arch and casement barr'd. 

164 27-28 The lights in strange alliance shone 
Beneath the arch of blacken'd stone. 

166 75-76 Sad burden to the ruffian jest. 

And rude oaths vented by the rest. 

B [ 20I ] 



NOTES 

183 515-516 And seem'd to minstrel ear, to toll 
The parting dirge of many a soul. 

187 643-644 The banquet gay, the chamber's pride, 

Scarce drew one curious glance aside. 

188 677-678 The lively lark my matins rung, 

The sable rook my vespers sung. 

II. VERSIFICATION 

The body of the poem is written in iambic four-stress (tetrameter) 
rhyming verse, or, as the older prosodists described it, octosyllabic 
couplets — the " lusty octosyllabics " of Lowell's description. 

Though this kind of verse had been used for narrative verse in 
England since the Norman Conquest — it was a favorite measure with 
the troiiveres — and all the masters wrote it with distinction (Chaucer 
in The House of Fame ^ Gower in the Confessio Af?iantisy Barbour in The 
Bruce^ Shakespeare in the Chorus work of Pericles^ Milton in V Allegro 
and // Pe7tseroso, Burns in Tarn o' Sha?tter), it was a happy accident 
that determined Scott's use of it. He began to write his first metrical 
romance. The Lay of the Last Mmst?'el, in ballad stanzas, but hearing a 
friend read Coleridge's Christabel from the unpublished manuscript, his 
ear detected that this kind of verse would be a more fitting vehicle 
for his poem, and from that time onwards rhymed iambic tetrameter 
was his passion. Like the other masters of iambic tetrameter, Scott 
varies the expression by introducing trochaic and anapaestic effects. 
The force and energy of Scott's verse determined Byron to use iambic 
tetrameter in his metrical tales, Mazeppo^ The Prisoiier of Chillo7t, The 
Giaour, etc., the first of his poems to make a genuine popular appeal. 

The introductory stanzas to each Canto, and the three stanzas of 
epilogue, are in the familiar Spenserian verse, dear to Scott from child- 
hood (see the autobiographic passage about his early literary enthusi- 
asms, given in the Introduction, pp. xix-xx). The excellent Songs are 
in varied measures. " Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er " (I,xxxi) isin trochaic 
tetrameter. The song of Allan-bane, '' Not faster yonder rowers' might " 
(II, ii), is in iambic tetrameter, with the second and fifth lines trimeter. 
The famous Boat Song, " Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! " 
(II, xix) is in an easy swing of dactyhc tetrameter with dimeter vari- 
ations. The hauntingly beautiful Coronach, " He is gone on the 

[ 202 ] - 



CANTO FIRST 

mountain " (III, xvi), is anapaestic with amphibrachic effects. The 
Barrack- Room Ballad, " Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule '* 
(VI, v), a great favorite with Robert Browning, is also anapaestic with 
splendid amphibrachic variants. 

III. EXPLANATORY AND ILLUSTRATIVE 

CANTO FIRST 

[The figures refer to the lines of the text.] 

1. Harp of the North : the spirit of Scottish poetry. 

2. witch-elm : the broad-leaved elm common in Scotland. * Witch ' 
(more correctly spelled *wych') here means ' drooping".' It is connected 
with the Anglo-Saxon wican^ * to bend.' Confusion with the ordinary 
meaning of ' witch ' has led to the attributing of magical virtues to the 
tree. Cf.* wizard elm,' Canto VI, 846. — Saint Fillan's spring. More 
than one sacred well in Perthshire bears the name of St. Fillan, an abbot 
of the eighth century. He was the favorite saint of Robert the Bruce, 
and a relic of him was borne by the victorious army at the battle of' 
Bannockburn. 

10. Caledon : Caledonia (the Roman name for Scotland, often used 
in poetry). 

14. according pause : pause during which the harmonious accom- 
paniment of the harp was heard. 

29. Monan's rill. St. Monan was a Scottish martyr of the fourth 
century. 

31. Glenartney. The valley oftheArtney, a small stream in Perthshire. 

33. BenvoirHch. A mountain north of Glenartney. *Ben,' from the 
Gaelic beann^ * a conical peak,' is often used with the names of Scottish 
mountains. In modern maps it is printed as a distinct word, for example, 
Ben Voirlich, Ben Venue, etc. 

45. beamed frontlet : antlered forehead. * Beam ' is the old sporting 
term for the main trunk of a stag's horn which bears the branches or 
antlers. 

53. Uam-Var. A mountain between Glenartney and the Braes of 
Doune. " Ua-var, as the name is pronounced, or more properly Uaighmor, 
is a mountain to the northeast of the village of Callander in Menteith, 
deriving its name, which signifies the * great den ' or * cavern,' from a 
sort of retreat among the rocks on the south side, said, by tradition, to 

[ 203 ] 



Notes 

have been the abode of a giant. In latter times it was the refuge of 
robbers and banditti, who have been only extirpated within these forty 
or fifty years. Strictly speaking, this stronghold is not a cavej as the 
name would imply, but a sort of small enclosure or recess, surrounded 
with large rocks, and open above head." — Scott. 

54. opening. Another sporting term. It is used to describe the 
barking of dogs at first sight or scent of their game. 

66. cairn. A cairn is, properly, a pyramid of rough stones, raised 
for a memorial or mark, but here it is used generally for a crag or 
rocky peak. 

71. linn. In Scottish literature this word is found in three senses: 
( I ) * precipice,' as here ; (2) ^ torrent running over rocks ' (as in Canto VI, 
488) ; and (3) ^ pool,' at the base of a waterfall. 

84. shrewdly: severely, keenly. Cf. Hamlet, I, iv, i. 

89. Menteith. This district is watered by the river Teith, which flows 
from Loch Katrine into the Forth. 

91. moss. A name given in Scotland to boggy or marshy land. 

93. Lochard. A little lake south of Loch Katrine. — Aberfoyle. A 
village east of Lochard. 

95. Loch Achray. The word means Make of the level field.' Loch 
Achray is situated between Loch Katrine and Loch Vennachar at the 
foot of Ben Venue or Benvenue, as it is written in Hne 97. 

103. Cambusmore. Near Callander, the home of the Buchanan 
family often visited by Scott. 

105. Benledi. The word means * hill of God.' It is a singularly 
beautiful mountain to the north of Loch Vennachar. 

106. Bochastle^s heath. A moor between the Teith and Loch 
Vennachar. 

112. Brigg of Turk : * bridge of the wild boar.' 

120. Saint Hubert's breed. This race of hounds was kept up by 
the abbots of St. Hubert in honor of the patron saint of hunting. 

127. quarry : the hunted animal. 

138. whinyard : a large knife, dagger, or short sword. 

145. Trosachs. The romantic valley between Lochs Katrine and 
Achray. The name means * bristled country' with reference to the 
dense woodlands. The modern spelling is ' Trossachs.' 

166. Woe worth : woe be to. * Worth ' is from an Anglo-Saxon verb, 
weoiihan, to become or to be. 

196. the tower : the Tower of Babel. See Genesis xi, 1-9. 

[204] 



CANTO FIRST 

208. sheen : shining. So in Chaucer and in Spenser. 

212. Boon: bountiful (from Fr. bo7i). So in Milton. 

227. frequent flung : flung thickly. * Frequent' is used in the Latin 
sense of ' crowded.' Cf. Pai-adise Lost^ I, 797. 

263. Loch Katrine. A beautiful Perthshire lake. 

277. Ben-an. It means * Little Mountain ' and is to the north of the 
Trossachs, separating that pass from Glenfinlas. 

297. Bead. Originally 'a prayer'; now applied to one of the little 
balls of a rosary. 

344. A Nymph, a Naiad. In Greek mythology the woods we're 
inhabited by nymphs, the fountains and streams by naiads. The three 
graces attended the goddess Venus. 

363. snood : a ribbon worn by Scottish maidens to bind their hair. 

425. the petty need : the need of rest and food. 

443. by the rood: by the cross (a common Shakespearian oath). 

460. the visioned future. This is a reference to the power of 
divination or second sight believed in by the superstitious people of 
the Highlands. 

464. Lincoln green : a hunting cloth manufactured in Lincoln and 
commonly associated with Robin Hood. 

475. errant-knight: one roaming in search of adventures. 

478. emprise. A variant of 'enterprise,' or * undertaking.' 

525. Idaean vine. This is probably a reference to the red whortle- 
berry, though it is not a climbing plant. Ida was a mountain in Crete 
famous for its vines. 

546. target : a small shield. 

548. arrows store : plenty of arrows. 

566. brook: endure. Cf. Canto VI, 591. 

573. Ferragus or Ascabart. *' These two sons of Anak flourished 
in romantic fable. The first is well known to lovers of Ariosto. 
Ascabart makes a very material figure in the History of Bevis of 
Hampton, by whom he was conquered." — Scott. 

591. Snowdoun. An old name for Stirling Castle. 

638. pibroch : a Highland battle song played on the pipes. 

729. exiled race. The Douglases were at enmity with James V, 
because the Earl of Angus married the mother of young King James 
and tried to make himself ruler of Scotland. 

732. brand : sword. So elsewhere in the poem. Cf. Cantos II, 795, 
VI, 60. 

[205] 



NOTES 

CANTO SECOND 

7. minstrel gray. The minstrel was an officer in families of rank. 
This custom, according to Scott, persisted well into the eighteenth 
century. 

109. Graeme. " The ancient and powerful family of Graham (which, 
for metrical reasons, is here spelt after the Scottish pronunciation) 
held extensive possessions in the counties of Dumbarton and Stirhng. 
Few families can boast of more historical renown, having claim to three 
of the most remarkable characters in the Scottish annals. Sir John the 
Graeme, the faithful and undaunted partaker of the labors and patriotic 
warfare of Wallace, fell in the unfortunate field of Falkirk, in 1298. 
The celebrated Marquis of Montrose, in whom De Retz saw realized his 
abstract idea of the heroes of antiquity, was the second of these wor- 
thies. And, notwithstanding the severity of his temper, and the rigor 
with which he executed the oppressive mandates of the princes whom 
he served, I do not hesitate to name as a third, John Graeme of Claver- 
house, Viscount of Dundee, whose heroic death in the arms of victory 
may be allowed to cancel the memory of his cruelty to the Noncon- 
formists during the reigns of Charles II and James II." — Scott. 

131. Saint Modan. A Scotch abbot of the Middle Ages. 

141. BothwelPs bannered hall. This castle, now in ruins, the 
home of the Douglas family, may still be seen on the Clyde a few 
miles above Glasgow. 

141-143. "The minstrel tries to account for the strange way in 
which his harp gives back mournful sounds instead of the joyous ones 
he is trying to evoke, by calling to Ellen's mind two other occasions 
when it behaved similarly. One of these was when it foreboded the 
death of Ellen's mother ; the other when it foreboded the exile of 
the Douglases during the minority of James V." — Vaughn Moody. 

159. From Tweed to Spey : from the southern boundary of Scot- 
land to the far north. 

200. the Bleeding Heart. This was the crest of the Douglas family 
chosen in remembrance of the deathbed charge given by Robert Bruce 
to James Douglas to bear his heart to Jerusalem. 

206. strathspey : a Highland reel. 

213. Alpine. A mythical Highland king. 

214. Loch Lomond. This, the most beautiful of the lakes of Scot- 
land, lies to the west of Loch Katrine. 

[206] 



CANTO SECOND 

216. A Lennox foray: a raid on the Lennox country lying south 
of Loch Lomond. 

221. Holy-Rood. The royal palace at Edinburgh. 

236. dispensation. Roderick and Ellen, being cousins, could be 
married only by special permission of the pope. 

260. Maronnan's cell : a cell dedicated to St. Maronnan at the 
eastern extremity of Loch Lomond. 

270. Bracklinn. A mountain cataract near the village of Callander. 

274. claymore. The word in Gaelic means ^ great sword.' 

306. Tine-man. Archibald, the third Earl of Douglas, was so called 
because he * tined,* or lost, his followers in battle. 

308. Hotspur. Shakespeare in i Henry IV gives an account of the 
Douglas-Percy Hotspur-Glendower alliance. 

319. Beltane game : a Celtic festival on May Day in honor of Beal, 
the sun. 

327. canna^s hoary beard : the down of the cotton grass. 

335. Glengyle. A valley at the western end of Loch Katrine. 

340. bannered Pine. A pine tree was the crest on Clan Alpine's 
banners. 

351. chanters: the tubes of the bagpipes on which the melody 
is played. 

362. Gathering : the war cry, or slogan, of the clan. 

405. bourgeon : swell into bud, blossom. 

408. Roderigh Vich Alpine : Black Roderick of the family of 
Alpine. * Dhu ' in Gaelic is * black ' ; * Vich ' is * son of.' 

497. Percy^s Norman pennon. This was a trophy of victory won 
by a fo^iftier Douglas. Hotspur's attempt to recover his banner gave 
rise to the famous battle of Otterbourne, or Chevy Chase. 

504. waned crescent. This was the badge of Sir Walter Scott of 
Buccleuch. An unsuccessful attempt on his part to free the king from 
the Douglases accounts for the waning crescent. 

506. Blantyre. A priory on the banks of the Clyde opposite 
Bothwell Castle. 

525. unhooded. The head of a falcon was commonly covered 
with a hood. When this was removed it was a signal for flight after 
game. 

527. Goddess of the wood : Diana, goddess of hunting. 

577. royal ward. According to feudal law, Malcolm, as head of the 
Graemes, is under the guardianship of the king during his minority. 

[207] 



NOTES 

616. tamed the Border-side. History shows that James V dealt 
harshly with border * reavers ' and the bandits of Ettrick Forest. The 
fate of Johnnie Armstrong of Liddesdale, who came to meet the king 
on friendly terms and who was seized and put to death, is only one of 
many instances of severity in addition to those mentioned in the text. 
(See Introduction, Highlanders and Borderers.) 

623-626. Meggat . . . Yarrow . . . Ettrick . . . Teviot. These are 
names of streams flowing into the Tweed. 

638. streight : strait, difficulty. 

678. Links of Forth. * Links' means *the windings of a river' and 
also * the land lying among the windings.' 

679. Stirling's porch. StirHng Castle was a favorite residence of 
Scottish kings. 

699. startler: one who is startled. Used by Scott in a passive sense. 

702. battled fence : battlemented parapet. Cf. Canto VI, 7. 

757. checkered shroud: tartan plaid. * Shroud ' originally meant 
*a garment.' 

805. lackey: serve, or wait upon. So in Shakespeare and Milton. 

809. henchman : a body servant or secretary in constant attendance 
on his Highland master. 

831. Fiery Cross. See note below. Canto III, 18. 

CANTO THIRD 

18. Fiery Cross : a cross made of any light wood, its ends 
scorched by fire and extinguished in the blood of a goat. It was 
carried by trusty messengers across country from village to village 
as the chieftain's signal for summoning his clan. 

138. sable-lettered page : black-letter pages. The name is given 
to Old English characters of heavy type. 

154. river Demon: an evil spirit whose appearance foreboded 
misfortune. 

168. Ben-Shie's boding scream. Fairies or familiar spirits were 
supposed to watch over noble Highland families and by outcries warn 
them of impending death or disaster. 

191. Inch-Cailliach. A beautiful island at the lower extremity of 
Loch Lomond. The name means * Isle of Nuns.' 

212. strook : struck. Cf. Milton's Hym^i on the Nativity, 95. 

237. volumed flame: flame in rounded masses. * Volume' meant 
originally a * roll,' from Latin volvo. 

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CANTO FOURTH 

253. Coir-Uriskin : *den of the wild men, or satyrs' — a pass on 
the northern side of Benvenue. 

255. Beala-nam-bo : *pass of cattle' — a glade higher up the moun- 
tain than Coir-Uriskin. 

286. Lanrick mead. A meadow on the northern side of Loch Ven- 
nachar. 

300. dun deer's hide. The Highland ' brogue,' that is, stout, coarse 
shoe, was made of undressed deer skin, the hair worn outside. 

349. Duncraggan. A hamlet between Achray and Vennachar, near 
the Brigg of Turk. 

394. Stumah : ' Faithful ' (the name of a dog). 

453. Strath Ire. The valley above Loch Lubnaig, watered by the 
upper reaches of the Teith. 

528. Lubnaig : * the lake of the small bends.' It lies east of Ben 
Ledi. 

570. Balquidder. The Braes of Balquidder stretch westward from 
Strath Ire. 

577. coil: bustle, confusion. So in Shakespeare. 

580. Balvaig. A river flowing from Loch Voil and Loch Doine into 
Lubnaig. 

582. Strath-Gartney. A valley on the northern side of Loch 
Katrine. 

606. Graeme and Bruce. Famous Scottish families. 

607-609. Rednock . . . Cardross . . . Duchray. Scottish castles 
along the Forth valley. 

610. Loch Con : ' lake of the dogs ' ; southwest of Loch Katrine. 

CANTO FOURTH 

19. Braes of Doune. Hilly country on the north bank of the Teith. 

36. boune : prepared. The word appears to-day in the form * bound,' 
in such phrases as " bound for the Old Country." 

63. Taghairm: 'oracle of the Hide.' Among the Highlanders this 
was one of the methods of inquiring into the future. A person wrapped 
in a bullock's hide went to a glen or lonely waterfall and there dwelt 
upon the questions at stake. His musings were affected by the strange- 
ness of his situation, and any mysterious wildness in the decision was 
received by the superstitious clansmen as the inspiration of disembodied 
spirits. 

68. The reference is to a foray or cattle drive. 

[ 209 ] 



NOTES 

74 Beal 'maha : * the pass of the plain,' east of Loch Lomond. 

77. Dennan's Row. The starting point for the ascent to Ben Lomond. 

84. the Hero's Targe : a rock in the woods of Glenfinlas. 

98. broke. A technical term for the cutting up of the slaughtered stag. 

152-153. Moray, Mar. Two earls, commanders in King James's 
forces. The banner of one bore a star, the other a pale or broad black 
perpendicular stripe. 

160. the friendly clans of Earn. Those inhabiting the district about 
Loch Earn. 

198. red streamers of the north : the northern lights. 

231. Cambus-kenneth's fane. An abbey near Stirling. 

261. Merry it is. "This little fairy tale is founded upon a Danish 
ballad." — Scott. (It is an imitation of the medieval ballad of which 
Scott's own metrical romances are a modern development.) 

277. vest of pall : mantle of rich material. ' Pall,' from l^dXin pallium, 
originally meant a * cloak ' ; then the cloth out of which cloaks were made. 

298. woned : dwelt. Frequent in old ballads. 

306. fatal green. " As the Daoine Shi\ or Men of Peace, wore green 
habits, they were supposed to take offense when any mortals ventured 
to assume their favorite color. Indeed, from some reason, which has 
been, perhaps, originally a general superstition, ^?r^?? is held in Scotland 
to be unlucky to particular tribes and counties. . . . More especially is 
it held fatal to the whole clan of Graham." — Scott. 

308. christened man. The rite of baptism was supposed to give 
mortals precedence over elves, which the sprites both feared and envied. 

330. kindly blood : blood of kin, or kind. 

371. Dunfermline gray. The abbey of Grayfriars, Dunfermline, in 
Fife, not far from Edinburgh. 

531-532. Allan, Devan. Small streams flowing into the Forth. 

590. The toils are pitched : the nets are laid. The song warns 
Fitz-James of danger. 

594. stag of ten : a stag with ten branches on his horns. 

680. wreak : avenge. Cf. Romeo and Juliet, III, v, 102. 

686. favor : a token of favor worn by a knight in honor of the lady 
who gave it. 

722. summer solstice : heat of summer. 

787. Coilantogle^s ford : on the Teith just below Loch Vennachar. 
This was the boundary between the lawless Highlands and the district 
loyal to the Scottish king. 

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CANTO FIFTH 

CANTO FIFTH 

15. by. The word adds a touch of haste to the soldiers* devotions. 

18. Gael. The Highlander is called * Gael ' ; the Lowlander, * Saxon.' 

108. Regent. John Stuart, Duke of Albany, a relative of James V 
and regent during his minority. 

127. stranger to respect and power. "There is scarcely a more 
disorderly period in Scottish history than that which succeeded the 
battle of Flodden and occupied the minority of James V. Feuds of 
ancient standing broke out like old wounds, and every quarrel among 
the independent nobility, which occurred daily, and almost hourly, gave 
rise to fresh bloodshed." — Scott. 

169. Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu. " So far, indeed, was 
a Creagh^ or foray, from being held disgraceful, that a young chief was 
always expected to show his talents for command, so soon as he 
assumed it, by leading his clan on a successful enterprise of this nature, 
either against a neighboring sept, for which constant feuds usually fur- 
nished an apology, or against the Saxons, or Lowlanders, for which no 
apology was necessary. The Gael, great traditional historians, never 
forgot that the Lowlands had, at some remote period, been the property 
of their Celtic forefathers, which furnished an ample vindication of all 
the ravages that they could make on the unfortunate districts which 
lay within their reach." — Scott. 

246. mother Earth. The allusion is to one of the old myths, — 
probably that of Cadmus and the dragon's teeth. 

273. Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. Scott tells us that the 
Highlanders, although apparently lawless and cruel, were capable of 
generous action. The incident in the text resembles closely the situa- 
tion in Kipling's '' Ballad of East and West." 

298. three mighty lakes : Katrine, Achray, Vennachar. 

301. On Bochastle. Some fortifications, supposed to be remains of 
Roman occupation, have been found on this moor. 

356. carpet knight : one who wins distinction by favoritism in the 
luxury of court life, not through military service. 

383. trained abroad. On the Continent the sword-and-buckler duel 
had been replaced by rapier fencing, at which Frenchmen were 
adepts. 

485-504. Carhonie's hill, etc. The places named are all on the 
banks of the Teith, — places familiar to Scott from childhood. 

[211] 



NOTES 

550. Douglas. William, eighth Earl of Douglas, stabbed by James II 
in Stirling Castle. 

551. sad and fatal mound: a spot northeast of Stirling known as 
Heading Hill because of its use as a place of execution. 

558. Franciscan steeple: Grayfriars Church, built by James IV 
in 1549. 

562. morrice-dancers : performers of a Moorish dance, a popular 
amusement of the day, in which all classes of society joined. The 
actors, personating certain characters, as Friar Tuck, Robin Hood, 
etc., were disguised in curieus vestments of fawn-colored silk in the 
form of a tunic, with trappings of green and red satin, and wore bells 
around their ankles, with which they kept time to the music. See note, 
below, lines 614-618. 

564. The burghers hold their sports to-day. " Every burgh of Scot- 
land of the least note, but more especially the considerable towns, had 
their solemn //(^jK, or festival, when feats of archery were exhibited, and 
prizes distributed to those who excelled in wrestling, hurling the bar, 
and the other gymnastic exercises of the period. Stirling, a usual place 
of royal residence, was not likely to be deficient in pomp upon such 
occasions, especially since James V was very partial to them. His ready 
participation in these popular amusements was one cause of his acquir- 
ing the title of King of the Commons." — Scott. 

610. checkered bands : groups in motley or gay-colored dresses. 

614-618. Robin Hood, etc. For descriptions of these characters 
and a quarterstaff bout, see Scott's Ivanhoe. 

630. wight. The word is either a noun in the sense of ' man,' 
^ creature ' ; or an adjective, ^ strong,' * brave.' Either interpretation is 
possible here ; probably ' any man who claimed to be an archer,' or 
*any archer at all.' 

660. Ladies' Rock : a point on the hillside whence the court ladies 
watched the sports. 

838. cognizance : a badge by which a knight in armor could be 
recognized. 

872. lily lawn. A conventional expression in old ballad poetry. 



[212] 



CANTO SIXTH 

CANTO SIXTH 

7. battled : battlemented. Cf. Canto II, 702. 

9. Cf. 2 Henry IV^ III, i, 5 : '' O gentle sleep, nature's soft nurse.'' 

42. harness : armor and other war accouterments. 

47. Adventurers. "The Scottish armies consisted chiefly of the 
nobility and barons, with their vassals, who held lands under them, 
for military service by themselves and their tenants. James V seems 
first to have introduced, in addition to the militia furnished from these 
sources, the service of a small number of mercenaries, who formed a 
bodyguard, called the Foot-Band." — Scott. 

60. halberd : weapon combining spear and battle-ax. 

63. holytide: holiday. Cf. 'morning-tide,' Canto III, 478. 

92. black-jack: drinking can of tarred leather. 

95. upsees out: *a Bacchanalian interjection borrowed from the 
Dutch.' This is Scott's own explanation, though he misuses the 
phrase. 

103. placket and pot. Metonymy for * women and wine.' 

104. lurch : He in wait for, plunder. A form of * lurk.' 

131. juggler. "The jugglers used to call in the aid of various 
assistants to render these performances as captivating as possible. 
The glee-maiden was a necessary attendant. Her duty was tumbling 
and dancing, and therefore the Anglo-Saxon version of St. Mark's 
Gospel states Herodias to have vaulted or tumbled before King 
Herod."— Scott. 

234. barret-cap : a small flat cap worn by soldiers. 

264. Beaudesert. The last syllable is pronounced '-sart.' Cf. 
'clerk,' so often pronounced 'dark.' 

295. Leech : physician. Common in older English. 

306. prore : prow. Often so in poetry. 

348. Strike it ! " It is popularly told of a famous freebooter that 
he composed the tune known as *Macpherson's Rant 'while under sen- 
tence of death and played it at the gallows tree. Some spirited words 
have been adapted to it by Burns." — Scott. 

Battle of BeaP an Duine. " A skirmish actually took place at a pass 
thus called in the Trosachs [Trossachs], and closed with the remark- 
able incident mentioned in the text. It was greatly posterior in date 
to the reign of James V." — Scott. 

377. eyry: nest. — erne: eagle. 

[213] 



NOTES 

452. Tinchel. "A circle of sportsmen, by surrounding a great 
space and gradually narrowing, brought immense quantities of deer 
together, which usually made desperate efforts to break through the 
Tincheir—'^Q,o\X. 

488. linn. See note. Canto I, 71. 

539. bonnet-pieces : gold coins on which the king's head was 
represented with a bonnet instead of the crown. 

586. BothwelPs lord. The Douglas. See note on Canto II, 
141-143. 

591. brooked: received. The commoner meaning is 'endured.' 

638. storied pane. Cf. Milton's II Pefiseroso, 159. 

740. Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King. "James V, of whom 
we are treating, was a monarch whose good and benevolent intentions 
often rendered his romantic freaks venial, if not respectable, since, 
from his anxious attention to the interests of the lower and most 
oppressed class of his subjects, he was, as we have seen, popularly 
termed the King of the Commons. For the purpose of seeing that 
justice was regularly administered, and frequently from the less justi- 
fiable motive of gallantry, he used to traverse the vicinage of his 
several palaces in various disguises." — Scott. 



[214] 



